Happy Halloween
by NewTwilightFan
Summary: Are you in the mood for something scary, spooky, quirky, creepy or supernatural? A series of Halloween one-shots. Ratings, genres and characters vary by story. Individual ratings and summaries are at the top of each new post. Something for everyone. Happy Halloween!
1. Opt for the Treat (M)

**"Opt for the Treat"**

**Universe: AH**

**Rating: M (For sensuality)  
><strong>

**Characters: Bella, Edward**

**Genre: Romance**

**Summary: Bella is taking the quarter off from school to visit her parents and maybe earn a bit of money. The small town gossip mill is grinding away with endless stories of the hot new doctor. When Bella finally meets him, she comes up with a plan to seduce him on Halloween Night.**

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer still owns Twilight. And I still don't.

* * *

><p>"Oh, sweetie, it's so nice to have you home." Bella's mom hugged her tightly and rocked her back and forth for a few seconds.<p>

"I just needed a break. Thanks for being so supportive. I really thought year round school would speed things up, I guess I didn't realize how grueling summer term would be."

"I can tell. It looks like you need to eat, sleep, and have some fun. You're too skinny!"

"Mom, seriously? All I did was lose the 10 pounds I gained last year. I'm fine."

"I just worry about you. It's a mom thing. So, what are your plans? I know you don't intend to follow dad and me around for the next three months. Any cute boys you want to see?"

"Eww, Mom. You know I want to spend time with you guys. But I did want to catch up with some of the girls, maybe go on some hikes. And Mrs. Newton said I can pick up some shifts at the store to earn a bit of money, too. I didn't come back down here just to free-load."

"Isabella, stop. You know that's not how we feel. We're so happy to have you back home. It's been too quiet since you left for school. And now with football season in full swing, I need some extra estrogen in the house to balance out your dad and his friends. I'm going crazy."

"You already were, mom," Bella teased with a smile.

They chatted about small town gossip while fixing dinner. Bella didn't realize how many little details she missed out on in the last 12 months. She was also surprised to realize that it all felt a bit boring and mundane after living with the chaos and excitement of a college campus for a year. She felt herself checking out mentally more than once and had to force her attention back to her mother's words. It was a litany of rumors, geriatric medical emergencies, politics and crazy tourist stories. Although who would come to Forks on vacation she had no idea. Her mom was giggling about the family that showed up with eight kids in an enormous van to join in the Fourth of July celebration. The kids were all well dressed, polite and shy and completely shell-shocked by the demolition derby and the fireworks in the street. Obviously kids from the suburbs with too many rules and restrictions to know how to have fun.

Bella gasped and commented in all the right places, but her attention continued to wander until something sparked her interest.

". . . He's really quite handsome. Moved here immediately after his residency. He lives alone but half the women, married or not, have been showering him with casseroles and cookies since the moving truck pulled out of the driveway."

"Who is this again?" Bella asked.

"Edward Cullen. The new general practitioner at the hospital. I'm sure you'll end up seeing him before too long, but he lives just five houses down. The one with the white shutters and black door. It's been vacant since the last tenants moved out in January. Everyone was hoping a family with little kids would move in, but I think the young doctor is more exciting."

"Women love talking about little kids and single men. I bet all the matchmakers in town are sharpening their claws."

"It won't do them any good. Your father says he heard he was a homosexual."

"Dad's trading gossip now?"

"You know your father. He was probably just trying to shock me into shutting up."

"Can you really blame him?" Bella asked sarcastically.

"No," her mom giggled. "I'm sure all the husbands feel that way. It's not every day that a clean-shaven, handsome, wealthy, single young doctor moves into your town."

"Yeah. That's a long list of characteristics. I hope you haven't done anything embarrassing."

"Isabella Marie Swan. You watch yourself. All I did was take over a home-baked apple pie when he moved in. It was a welcome gift just like I would give any new neighbor."

"Mom, you don't bake."

"They had a bake sale at the library the day before."

"You bought dad a pie and then gave it away to a complete stranger? No wonder he was pissed!"

"Language, young lady."

"Right." They both laughed at the absurdity of it all. But Bella's curiosity was piqued. Any news in a small town was big news. But this was bigger than most. She couldn't wait to meet the man that had turned the entire female population of Forks into lunatics and their men into resentful grouches.

* * *

><p>September melted into October without a single sighting, but she heard plenty of gossip from her friends and even some of the customers at the store. So far, she knew what car he drove, that he ran daily along a route that people estimated to cover five miles, what time he left for work every morning, how late he came home, and, of course, that he lived alone and had never had a visitor apart from the town women that insisted on bringing him food. He met them at the door and never invited anyone inside. Bella felt like a stalker collecting all of this information in her head, but she never actively sought it out or asked a single question. He had captured everybody's attention, even the men.<p>

At the store one Wednesday morning she heard some men talking in low tones while sorting through the newest shipment of fishing lures.

"Anyone invited that Cullen doctor out yet?"

"Sure did. Me and Morty went over there a couple days after he moved in. He was dressed all clean and preppy like one of those prissy boy magazine models. Asked him to come out with us and he smirked. I kid you not. He smirked at us and told us he didn't want to go any more than we wanted to have him there. He was holding a giant red book like an encyclopedia and had on reading glasses like my Aunt Tess. We offered to let him clean the fish for his share of the catch since he's a doctor and knows all about slicing things open. He laughed and said he was no surgeon - that was his father. Then he thanked us for thinking of him, but he's a vegetarian."

"No friggin' way. So what's he doing with all the food? Lizzie took him a venison pie just last Friday. I sure hope he's not tossing 'em in the trash. That was a good buck that was. Tender. Not at all gamy. Damn that Lizzie. I told her that doc's a waste o' time. He's not gonna marry some small-town chit just because the women bribe him with food. Vegetarian. Hah!"

"I seen his car out behind the soup kitchen. More than once. You know, the shiny little silver thing."

"Yeah, I've seen it there myself. D'ya think the women know?"

"If they don't, please don't say anything. I bet them folks over at the soup kitchen have never eaten so good. Besides, if they do find out, they'll be calling him a saint next. I've already had it up to here with stories of him. Mary asked me to shave my beard! Can you believe it?"

Bella giggled to herself and continued stocking the fishing line in the next aisle. Mary was completely insane. You don't ask a lumberjack, a fisherman, a hunter or a mill worker to shave their beard. You might as well ask them to ditch their flannel jackets. It was never going to happen.

She reached for her box cutter in her back pocket planning to slice open the final box of fishing line. The sliding trigger caught on the edge of her pocket. When she tugged against the resistance, the corroded screw failed and the razor blade broke free, slashing across her pointer and middle fingers. Bella didn't feel the pain immediately. Razor cuts are like that. Icy numbness followed by sharp prickles where the skin parted, and then the deep, throbbing pain of bone-deep trauma. The pieces of the box cutter clattered to the floor amid a shower of crimson droplets.

"Shit, shit, shit," she hissed under her breath. This was bad. She knew it was worse than any other cut she'd received because her fingertips were already feeling pinched and burning. Her nerves were screaming from her shoulder on down to her hurt hand. Moving as quickly as she dared, Bella bundled her sweatshirt into a wad of fabric in front and then clamped down against it to staunch the flow of blood from the wounds.

"Excuse me, could somebody help me to my car, please?" Bella's voice sounded tinny and thin as if it had travelled over a poor phone connection. Morty heard and responded first. All the men had experienced or treated knife cuts from hunting or fishing trips, however they weren't well versed in treating 19 year old girls on the verge of slipping into shock.

"I got her, I got her. Tim, help me get her to the truck. Let's see if that Cullen guy knows what he's doing. We've got a patient for him, I think."

The scent of fresh blood hung like a rust-tinged haze in the Ford pick-up. Bella was wedged between Morty and Tim. Her face felt ice cold but her hand was on fire. Her sweatshirt was already soaked with blood. She looked down woozily. It looked like she was holding her hand against a gunshot or stab wound to the belly. She hoped her father didn't see her like this. He would have a heart attack first and ask questions later.

It was a short drive to the hospital. Once there, Morty and Tim helped her inside and into one of the black vinyl chairs that lined the small waiting room.

The receptionist gasped in horror and reached for the phone. "No need to panic, Betty. She just done and cut her fingers. It's bad but not quite so bad as it looks. We figured Doctor Cullen could stitch her up right quick, what do you think?"

"Oh, absolutely. We'll take her back to a room right away."

Bella tried to wave away the wheel chair that the nurse brought out for her, but he wasn't about to buckle when her face was as white as a sheet. Morty and Tim waited until she was settled before wishing her luck and heading back out to the truck. She offered them a watery smile and the best 'thank you' she could muster. She decided that once she could hold a spoon again she would bake them some cookies or brownies. It wasn't fair that this Doctor Cullen character was getting all of the benefits of domestic gratitude and the other men were left in the cold. They were a bit rough around the edges, sure, but for the most part they were a kind-hearted and chivalrous bunch.

Bella tilted her head back and breathed slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth. The bleeding had slowed somewhat, but the light-headed feeling still persisted. The nurse asked her some simple questions about her medical history and the accident as he measured and wrote down her vitals.

"Well, Ms. Swan, Doctor Cullen will be here in just a few moments to look at that hand. I'll be right back with a bottle of water. You look like you could use it."

She grinned weakly in response. She felt wilted and slow. "Some water would be great. Thanks."

Bella looked around the room curiously. She had spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital during her early teenage years. Some kids were gawky and awkward during their adolescence. She was a threat to her own health. Getting bones set and wounds stitched was a familiar process. Of course, she eventually grew into her body and hadn't had an emergency for three years now. Since her last trip here they had replaced the mint green privacy curtains with beige and cream plaid ones. The walls had been repainted, too. Everything else looked, and smelled, the same way she remembered.

"Here's some water. Are you doing okay?"

Bella's hand was throbbing and her breakfast felt like curdled milk in her stomach, but she was holding it together and managed a quick nod.

"Okay then. Just hit this button if you need anything. The doctor will be right in."

Bella pushed back with her feet until the wheel chair was up against the wall. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. The fluorescent lights were making her dizzy. Or maybe that was the pain and shock. Several more minutes passed before she heard a hushed conversation outside the door followed by a quick knock.

"Hello. Miss Swan, is it?"

Bella opened her eyes and her jaw came unhinged. After weeks of hearing the gossip, she had become a bit jaded and cynical. They must have been exaggerating. No man was as perfectly beautiful as everyone claimed Doctor Cullen to be. Or so she had thought. The man before her deserved every ounce of their praise. He was definitely young, maybe in his mid twenties, with features that arrested the gaze instantaneously. His hair was a tousled mess of auburn with gold and bronze highlights. He was fair skinned with a smattering of freckles across his nose and high cheekbones. Most shocking of all were his eyes, the same brilliant green as her favorite tourmaline pendant. He was watching her expectantly, looking at her over a pair of glasses with thin wire frames.

"Um. Yes. Bella. Sorry. I guess I'm still a bit light-headed."

"I see. Did you lose consciousness at all?" he asked while scanning the nurse's notes.

"No, but I get faint at the smell of blood. Fortunately Morty and Tim gave me a ride here. I don't think I could shift gears like this."

"You drive a manual? That's a rare skill in your generation."

"Excuse me? My generation? You can't be more than five or six years older than me. That's hardly a generational gap."

"Sorry. I wasn't trying to be condescending." He glanced back at her chart. "You're pretty close there. I'm actually twenty seven. In my defense, you do look young for your age."

Bella instantly forgot her first impression of the good doctor. Hot he may be, but he was a condescending asshole. . . while claiming not to be condescending. So he was also a liar and a hypocrite.

"If you're done insulting me, maybe you good look at my hand and tell me if my fingers are still attached."

He started in surprise at her tone. "Again, I apologize. Let me just wash my hands and we'll see what we need to do to get you fixed up and out of here." He did look honestly apologetic. Maybe she was overreacting. Her emotions were all over the place and she was having trouble thinking through the fog of pain.

Bella gritted her teeth while he washed his hands, donned a pair of XL exam gloves and gently unclenched her hand from her blood-stained sweatshirt. She was still sitting in the wheelchair, so he scooted the round stool directly in front of her and sat with his knees bracing hers and her injured hand over a blue cloth on her lap.

Bella couldn't stomach looking at the cuts. They felt deep and they hurt almost more than she could stand. She knew all she needed to know for now. Instead, she examined Doctor Cullen. His expression was intent as he gently uncurled her fingers and prodded gently at the joints and flesh above and below the lacerations.

This close, she could see details that were invisible at first glance. He had slight shadows under his eyes like he hadn't slept well, or had been working far too many hours in a row. His jaw was bristling with stubble, but it was lighter than his hair, almost strawberry blond. His eyebrows and lashes, by contrast, were dark brown at the base, fading to reddish tips. She could see a faint line with four dimpled white dots on either side stretching from just above his right eyebrow into his hairline. She wondered how he got that scar. It had been stitched perfectly and healed so cleanly that it was almost imperceptible.

"Well, this could have been a lot worse," he spoke softly, still examining her wounded hand. Bella felt blood dripping steadily down the back of her hand to soak into the absorbent cloth. "The blade, it was a razor blade, correct?"

Bella nodded. "My box cutter broke open."

"Hmmm. Well, it's a clean cut. That's good. No tearing of the tissues so I should have no problem making a neat stitch. However, the blade did go very deep. Your middle finger just sustained trauma to the muscle. That will heal quickly. But your pointer finger could have some complications. The blade nicked the proximal phalange and cut part way through the flexor digitorum profundis. That's the tendon you use to curl your fingers inward to make a fist or grasp objects. If you can tough it out a bit longer, I'd like to move you over to the OR where I have to lighting and tools to do this right."

"What do you mean, do it right? Can't you just stitch it closed?"

"I could and I think you might heal just fine. But I would feel a lot more comfortable if we could throw a couple of dissolving stitch through that tendon to ensure it knits properly. Otherwise there is the risk it could heal weaker than before, or scar tissue around the sheath could cause binding and limit movement, or the worst case would be if it tore the rest of the way. We would have to do more invasive hand surgery to pull it back into place and I would rather not bring an orthopedic surgeon in to bisect your beautiful fingers if I can help it."

Bella blanched visibly and pulled her hand protectively against her chest.

"Hmm. I didn't think you would be a fan of that either. So, let me go ahead and numb you up and then we'll get you over to the OR. Will that work for you?"

"I guess so. Yes. And thank you."

"Good girl. Okay, let's take care of some of that pain first."

The bite of the needle into her already traumatized hand brought tears to Bella's eyes. The pain was wearing her down. The adrenaline that surged through her immediately after the accident had been metabolized and now she just felt like curling up into a ball on the floor and sobbing. It took several minutes for the anesthetic to seep through the tissues, but when the numbness took hold she breathed a sigh of relief. Her other fingers were still tingling and her right arm and shoulder were rigid and sore. Doctor Cullen wrapped her wounded hand loosely with sterile gauze then disposed of the syringe and his blood stained gloves. He disappeared to give his instructions to the front desk, but reappeared moments later.

"Your hair came loose. Would you like me to fix it for you?"

"Oh. I guess I can't, can I? Thanks. I'm going to have to have my mom tie my hair up for me for the next couple weeks."

Doctor Cullen moved the wheel chair forward and stood behind her. "That's how it looks. Unless you want to stop here each morning and I can do it for you," he joked as her smoothly removed her rubber band, pulled her hair back into a low pony tail and replaced the hair tie.

"I think you have better things to do with your time. But, thanks. Wow. You're good at that."

"I grew up with a younger sister and several female cousins." His hands moved from her hair to her right shoulder gently loosening the tense muscles with his fingers then working his way slowly over her deltoids to her upper arms. Bella tilted her head from side to side, welcoming the relief from the pain and tension of the last half hour. But when he crouched down next to her chair and continued to massage her forearm, her first impression of him came flooding back to her.

His eyes met hers and she was struck by the warmth and humor in their green depths. Now that the pain in her hand had dimmed to a subtle pressure and her shoulder spasm had relaxed she could really appreciate the beauty of his face. She felt very awkward all of a sudden. She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp.

"Tsk, tsk. Calm down. Tension in the arm will stop your hand from relaxing completely. I don't want to put you under general anesthesia, but I need your muscles to be as slack and immobile as possible. Just breathe in and out and do your best to let go." He kept a firm hold on her arm as he spoke. What he said made sense, but she was having a very hard time loosening up with his body so close, his breath on her face and the feel of his fingers gently stroking and massaging her arm.

"Okay," he continued, "I think they're probably almost ready for us. I'm going to call Tyler back in to prep you and take you to the operating room while I get scrubbed up. I'll see you in a few minutes, Ms. Swan."

"Thanks, Doctor Cullen," she replied.

Tyler, the nurse who took her vitals, came in with a tray and set to work cleaning her hand and fingers around the cut. He irrigated the wounds with a saline solution. She had to look away. The sight of her flesh, gaping and bloodless pink was only made worse by the appearance of fresh blood welling up and dripping onto the white bandages. He rewrapped her hand and patted her knee reassuringly.

"You're doing great, Isabella. Your mom is here, by the way. I guess your boss called her and told her what happened. Do you want to see her now or wait?"

"I'd rather wait until after, if that's okay. She'll probably ask me a billion questions and I might get frustrated with her. She'll hate it but I would rather just focus. She gets pretty stressed out when I'm hurt so I'm sorry if she yells at you."

"Don't sweat it. She's your mom and she loves you. Of course she worries. Let's get you over to the OR now and I'll tell her she can see you in about 30 minutes."

"That fast?"

"That's what the doc said."

"Wow, okay."

When they reached the OR, Tyler helped her out of the chair and onto the operating table. He laid her arm out on the small padded table that stuck out like a wing on one side. Another nurse, an older woman in pale pink scrubs with a matching mask, stood near her feet laying out instruments on a steel tray. Tyler patted her on the knee again and left to return to his duties in the ER.

Bella lay there looking at the bright lights on the ceiling, trying to relax as she was instructed to. It was a bit of a challenge considering how cold it was in there. Minutes later Doctor Cullen entered and all of Bella's progress was expunged. He was wearing forest green scrubs and a white mask. His eyes were startlingly bright, almost emerald, against that darker green fabric. The lighting cast sharp shadows, highlighting the play of hard muscles in his arms. He pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, looked right at her and winked. Was this his normal attitude or was he just trying to set her at ease? All the gossip churning through the rumor mill described him as serious, polite and direct. Bella felt as if he were teasing her.

"Let's get those fingers closed up now so you can go home, pop some pain pills and get some sleep."

"Sounds like a plan."

"First of all I'm going to inject a little more anesthetic. We don't want your hand jerking suddenly if I hit a sensitive spot while I'm working." He got right to work while he was still speaking. "Tendons heal more slowly than muscle and skin, so these stitches will dissolve gradually over the next 3-4 weeks." Bella wanted to look away, but she was so fascinated by the speed with which he worked that she couldn't. Without the pain and with less blood, she was more engrossed than repulsed and that surprised her. Doctor Cullen put two tiny stitched into the white-grey tendon, pulling the gaping edges together until they formed an uninterrupted line.

The nurse handed him a pair of forceps and another suturing needle. The curved metal glinted under the bright lights. Bella flinched when the needle punctured her skin. Doctor Cullen looked sharply up at her face to assess her pain. She took another breath and nodded for him to continue. His hands swept smoothly through the motions. She stared, mesmerized by their rapid dance. Swoop, twist, knot, snip. In under a minute, the slashes across both fingers were closed, held shut by a neat row of blue-black stitches.

"We're going to bandage these lightly. They may still bleed a bit for the next 24-48 hours. Due to the tendon damage, I want to immobilize your hand for the next seven days to allow the tissue to knit." The nurse handed him a splint designed to hold the fingers straight and flat. He placed her bandaged hand, still completely numb, against the splint and secured it with the attached elastic straps.

"How does that feel?"

"It doesn't."

"Well it will. In fact, it'll probably hurt like hell for days. I've entered in a prescription for Tylenol with codeine. If it isn't strong enough or you are having trouble sleeping, let me know right away. I can prescribe something stronger if you need it."

"That should be okay. It's what I took when I broke my leg in 7th grade and I managed."

"Perfect. I've also prescribed you an antibiotic. Infection increases scarring and that could inhibit your dexterity. I'd like to nip any possible infection in the bud. Make sure you take it with food, and take the whole prescription. If you notice any signs of infection, swelling, redness, fever, etcetera, I want to see you immediately. Tyler should have a list of wound care instructions for you. Well, then. Let's get you back to the other room. I understand your mother is here. I had Tyler ask her to bring you a change of clothes. Those look a bit worse for wear."

Bella looked down at her sweatshirt, stiff with dry blood, and her gory jeans. Now that he brought it to her attention, the sight turned her stomach. She couldn't wait to get into clean clothes.

"Thanks for assisting on short notice, Janine," he said as he helped Bella down from the operating table.

"You're welcome, Doctor Cullen. Take care of that hand, Isabella."

"I will. And thank you both, so much." Bella was surprised when Doctor Cullen did not release her elbow. He escorted her all the way back to the ER where her mother was waiting.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Bella was ensconced on the couch at her parents' house with a bowl of vanilla pudding, a full bottle of painkillers and the TV remote. Her mother had, true to form, oscillated between crying, scolding, hugging and interrogating her. After she learned the basic facts of the accident, her questions turned to data collection about the handsome doctor.<p>

Bella tried not to be rude, but she was feeling turned around inside and talking about Doctor Cullen was only making it worse. His bedside many was professional, efficient and gentle. But there were moments when he had lingered, his face a little closer, his touch a little firmer, his eyes searching. Finally, Bella claimed pain and exhaustion and begged her mother to let her take a nap. Renee apologized profusely and disappeared upstairs with her cell phone, no doubt to dish out more fodder to the gossip ring.

Bella sighed and flipped through the channels until she came to a music video program. She kept the volume loud enough to discourage conversation, but soft enough to think. She replayed scenes from the hospital in her head; Doctor Cullen winking at her, supporting her as she walked, massaging her shoulder and arm, gathering her hair, his fingers brushing against the nape of her neck.

Bella was flushed and short of breath. She finished her pudding, took two long pulls from her water bottle and settled deeper into the couch. She watched TV until she fell asleep, but she couldn't see anything past a pair of playful green eyes.

* * *

><p>Bella woke before 6 AM the next day feeling awful. It felt as if her hand was being pressed against a red hot stove. She was shaking badly by the time she managed to use the bathroom, feed herself a bowl of cereal, and toss back her pain meds and antibiotics. She crumpled back onto the couch and gritted her teeth while tears forced their way through her closed eyelids. It took far longer than she expected for the pain to dim to a manageable level and it didn't come close to the benumbed bliss of the shots in the ER.<p>

It was almost 8 o'clock when her mother came into the living room to check on her. "I took the rest of the week off work. Tell me what you need and I'll take care of it."

"Could you help me run a bath?"

"Of course, sweetie. Let me start the coffee and we'll get you cleaned up."

Bella felt strange being naked in front of her mother. She was conscious of the fact she was a woman now. The last time her mother had seen her naked was when she broke her leg and needed help bathing and dressing for a month in middle school. Renee seemed just as uncomfortable and respected her modesty as much as she could.

Bella stood next to the tub with her right hand in a plastic bag and her left hand holding the white bath sheet around her body.

"Okay, sweetie. That should be the right temperature. Do you need help climbing in?"

Bella eyed the high sides of the claw foot tub. She didn't want to slip and jar her hand. The codeine had taken the edge off, but it still throbbed abysmally. "Yeah. I think so. Thanks, mom."

"Don't worry about it. I'm here for you as long as you need me." Bella knew she was talking about more than just this injury. She had tears in her eyes as she released her towel and held her mom's hand for balance while she stepped into the tub.

It felt wonderful to sink into the warm water. She rested her right wrist against the edge and slipped down until her hair was completely wet. When she sat up, her mom wordlessly grabbed the shampoo, squeezed out a generous dollop, and set to work washing her hair. Renee worked at a salon and washed hair all day long, but this didn't feel like a salon shampoo. Bella was cast back to her toddler years, feeling her mother's hands gathering her hair, lathering it up. Shivering as her finger nails scratched gently across her scalp, over her crown and behind her ears. She closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation. She felt like a little girl, but simultaneously felt the significance of her actual age, hovering on the edge of womanhood. Her mother was her friend, her confidante, and her nurturer. That didn't have to change, even as she moved on into her independent life.

She washed the rest of her body as well as she could, grateful that her mom was there with a clean washcloth when she got soap in her eyes. When she finally lifted the plug with her toes to release the water, she was no longer embarrassed by her nudity.

Bella's mom helped her get dressed. They were both giggling by the time she managed to shimmy into her underwear and jeans and managed to get her bra straps straight. Bella could brush her hair left-handed, but she sat willingly on the edge of her bed while her mom kneeled behind her, combing and then French-braiding her hair.

"So, Doctor Cullen was very solicitous."

"He seems very nice."

"He spent a lot of time going over your care instructions."

"I don't think the ER was very busy yesterday."

"Isabella. . ."

"What, mom?"

"Look at me." Bella reluctantly met her mother's gaze in the mirror above her dresser. "I saw the way you looked at him. And the way he was watching you. It was like there was nobody else in the room. And there was very little air for the rest of us to breathe."

"The rest of who?"

"Thank you for making my point. Me, that male nurse, Mike and Tamara Newton. . ."

"Wait, Mike and his mom were there?"

"Oh, Bella. You are awfully clueless for being so smart. Tamara was on the phone with Celeste Walker before she had even reached the door. And poor Mike looked like someone just keyed his new truck."

"Mike Shmike. I don't see what there was to talk about."

"Of course not. You're too innocent. Just be careful. Anyone who looks like that man is bound to have far more experience than either you or me. Please be safe."

"Mom!"

"Alright, alright. I'm shutting up. Let's get you back down stairs. The coffee's hot and I'll make you some scrambled eggs."

Bella rolled her eyes, trying to dismiss the whole conversation, but she was secretly thrilled by the idea that Doctor Cullen was interested in her. So maybe that wasn't his normal bedside manner. She hoped it wasn't. She didn't want to imagine his hands in another woman's hair, or his fingers stroking and soothing their tension away.

* * *

><p>A week later Bella's mom drove her to the hospital to have her stitches removed. The splint chafed at her wrist and her hand felt stiff from being confined for so long.<p>

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Mom, I'm fine."

"Okay. I'm just going to swing by the salon to pick up my pay check and verify my schedule for tomorrow. I should be back here in under an hour."

"You don't need to rush. I'll be fine. Thanks for the ride, mom."

"Love you sweetie. See you soon."

Bella raised her splinted hand to wave a goofy good bye to her mom as she drove out of the parking lot. She checked in at the clinic reception desk and took a seat in the waiting area. She didn't have long to wait before the physician's assistant called her back to take her vitals.

Michelle, the PA, was chatty and smiley, talking non-stop about her pre-school aged son and his new kitten. Bella smiled but couldn't stop herself from checking the doorway every couple seconds. When the PA started taking off her brace and unwrapping her hand she felt a sinking sensation in her gut. He wasn't going to be here. Stitch removal was child's play. There was no need for the busy doctor, one of only three doctors on staff in the whole hospital, to take time out for her. She bit her lip and stared dejectedly at the wall while Michelle chattered happily on.

"Oooh, these are beautiful stitches. And no redness or swelling. Wonderful. Let me see you close your hand into a fist. Yes, just like that. Oh, this is such a relief. My husband was there at Newton's when you cut yourself. He said there was blood absolutely everywhere. Mrs. Newton was hysterical and Mike Newton was going to clean it up but then he went all white in the face and got sick. It was awful from what I heard."

"Wow. I had no idea," Bella replied uncomfortably. The Newtons had sent her a box of chocolates and a balloon with a card, but there was no discussion about her going back to work. She figured it was time to start looking elsewhere for part time work. Maybe the salon would pay her to answer phones during their busy times.

"Well, everything looks great. Why don't we get those itchy, itchy stitches out, huh?"

Michelle had her hands poised to cut through the first stitch when they heard someone clear their throat from the doorway. "I'll take it from here, Michelle. Thank you so much. I believe we've got another bleeder in the ER if you want to practice your stitches, too."

"Oh, excellent! I'll head right over there."

Bella watched wide-eyed as Michelle bounded out of the room to take care of the 'bleeder'. She couldn't ever imagine being happy to see an open wound.

"Yeah, she's a bit odd, but she's sweet."

"She does seem nice. And energetic."

Doctor Cullen chuckled while he repeated the exam that Michelle had just performed. But he took it a bit further, palpating the flesh above and below each pink scar, comparing the flexion and extension of her fingers on both hands, pressing gently against the knots that had formed in her forearm and palm until her hand sagged limp and relaxed palm up on his knee. She found herself watching him while he stroked her fingers. At first she thought he was caressing her, but then a sharp sting in her finger tip made her jump. She felt stupid when she realized he was just checking her reflexes.

"Sorry about that. The element of surprise is necessary to get a true reaction."

"How does it look?" Bella asked, trying to bring her mind back to business.

"Better than I hoped," he grinned at her. "You're a model patient." She flushed beneath his gaze, self-conscious but pleased by his praise. "Now, I'm going to give you a list of exercises that I want you to do three times a day. They'll preserve your dexterity as you continue to heal. If you think you can handle that, you won't need to see a physical therapist." He showed her the exercises and walked through several repetitions with her. Her hand was weak, stiff and still hurt a lot, but she pushed through and earned another glowing grin. "Perfect. Do you think you can come in at the same time next week?"

"Absolutely." She was thrilled at the opportunity to see him again.

"Great. Wait here while I print out that list of exercises."

Bella examined her hands while he was gone, impressed by how rapidly the skin seemed to be healing. She could feel the swelling and hardened tissues in the hurt fingers and her right hand and wrist looked thinner than the left. She was surprised at how quickly the muscles atrophied with only one week in a splint. Despite being right handed naturally, her right hand and wrist looked small and weak compared to her left.

Doctor Cullen recognized the look on her face. "It may look wimpy right now, but doing these exercises will bring muscle strength and tone back in no time."

Bella cupped her healing hand protectively in her good one. "I know that. It's just odd, you know? Things deteriorate so quickly when they're neglected."

"That's very true. That's why I run every day. You're not back to driving yet, are you?" There was the wink again.

"Not yet. My mom dropped me off and is picking me up again in about 20 minutes."

"Well, you can start driving again as soon as you are comfortable. And don't forget to finish up the remaining doses of your antibiotics."

"Yes, Doctor Cullen," she replied. His eyes seemed to spark when she said his name. His gaze was on her lips. Emboldened by his playful wink she casually licked her lower lip. She saw his eyes start open a bit wider and his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. That made her smile. She didn't have much experience, but her instincts were picking up some clear signals. The small town doctor with the rigid bearing was not as unattainable as everyone else thought.

The tiny seed of an idea put down roots in her mind. It was three weeks until Halloween. She had some shopping to do.

* * *

><p>Bella already had a plan in mind, but she needed to know it had a chance of success. She didn't want to contemplate the possibility of rejection. It would be humiliating. And heart breaking. During the two weeks after her injury. Doctor Cullen had gone from being an object of curiosity within her mind to being the central focus of every thought, dream and fantasy. She was hungry for the feel of his fingers against her skin. She treasured every detail of the times he had touched her, sifting through the myriad sensations and fueling her fantasies with increasingly graphic details.<p>

She had given up her virginity back in high school and felt seriously let down by the premature heaving, grunting release of her date. He left her feeling awkward and incomplete. After three more similar experiences at college, she wanted to be with someone who possessed some skill and experience. If her mother's assessment was correct, Doctor Cullen would have both in abundance.

Bella saw the doctor one more time. He seemed pleased with how quickly her hand was healing and regaining strength. However, he was very direct and professional. No casual touches. No playful winks. Something had changed since their last appointment and she didn't like it.

"Doctor Cullen?"

"Yes Miss Swan?"

"I was wondering if you could also look at my knee while I'm here."

He twisted on the swivel stool to look down at her legs. She was wearing black leggings under a royal purple sweater dress. He looked back up at her over his reading glasses and she could see the barest glint of a spark there. Bella wanted to fan that spark into a real flame.

She lifted her foot, extending her left leg before her. He wordlessly took her cue, rolling forward to take her knee between his hands.

"Can you tell me what happened?" His fingers gently probed the joint and surrounding tissue, feeling for swelling and heat.

"I stepped funny coming down the stairs this morning. I almost lost my balance but I caught myself in time. But I felt a pop in my left knee and it hurts a bit on the outside when I step down. Yeah. Right there."

"This is pretty common. Sudden angled tension or impact can create a shearing force against tendons and ligaments. If you felt a pop you could have a small tear. They generally heal quickly as long as you don't stress it further. Focus on straight line motions like walking or running, but no soccer or football drills, alright?" He was smirking now and hadn't let go of her leg. "I would also recommend ice four times a day for the next 48 hours. Elevate it and keep the ice pack on for 12 to 15 minutes. If it feels at all unstable, or you experience inflammation or shooting pains, we'll take another look. Is there anything else you need help with? Are you going to need a doctor's note to go back to work?"

"I'm not working at Newton's any more. Now I'm helping out at the salon a couple hours a day. It's not much, but it's better than sitting around watching TV and waiting for next term to start."

"So will you be heading back to UW in January?"

"How do you know where I go to school?"

"You've lived here long enough to know that nothing is private. If you keep your ears open, you hear all sorts of interesting information. Like for instance, did you know that I am a homosexual orphan of millionaire parents who escaped heartbreak by moving to Forks when my pregnant fiancé died of complications following a miscarriage?"

"Um, no."

"I didn't either."

"So you're not gay."

"Would it bother you if I were?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm." His hands were still on her knees and he was leaning forward. His eyes darkened perceptibly as he took in her shallow breathing, flushed skin and trembling hands. "I'm afraid we're both walking on shaky ground, Miss Swan."

"Sounds risky. . . but fun."

"Behave yourself, young lady. I still need to work another six hours. If you keep looking at me like that I'm going to throw professionalism right out the window and the repercussions of that could be more than either of us want to face."

"What do you want?"

"I think I-"

There was a sharp rap at the door. "Doctor Cullen, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but we have a woman in labor on her way here right now and we can't reach Doctor Gerard."

"I'm on my way, Tyler. Thanks!" He stood up and Bella stood, too. His expression was conflicted and pensive. It seemed like he made a decision though, because he gave her a sexy smirk and stroked his fingers through the wispy mahogany strands of hair that framed her face. "Take care of yourself."

"You too," she replied breathlessly and then he was gone, off to welcome a new human being into the world. She sat on the verge of hyperventilating, waiting for the exhilaration of his touch to fade so she could walk through the waiting area without giving herself away.

He had given her the encouragement she needed. It was time to put her plan into action.

* * *

><p>Bella started taking morning walks. When she got the timing just right, she passed by Doctor Cullen's house right after he returned from his run. His greetings were polite and restrained, but his eyes spoke more familiarly. She would walk past him with a quiet 'good morning', but she was boldly watching him stretching, sweat-soaked and practically steaming in the chill October air. She noticed how many curtains shifted and twitched while he stretched, the good matrons of Forks still drinking in the sight of their favorite bachelor's morning routine.<p>

The day before Halloween, Bella carved pumpkins with her parents. Her dad insisted on doing all of the cutting, even though they were using a child-friendly pumpkin carving kit. Bella and her mom collected all of the plump seeds, washed them thoroughly and baked them with salt and oil. The house smelled wonderful, like she remembered from Halloweens past.

While the seeds were in the oven, they hung strands of fake cobwebs across the front porch then stood back several paces throwing plastic spiders in the webs, trying to make them stick. Charlie came outside to see what they were giggling about and got pelted with the fake creepy crawlies.

"Enough, enough. I'm going back inside. I just though you should know the oven timer went off five minutes ago."

"Oh no! The pumpkin seeds!" Renee cried. She ran inside and Bella followed more slowly behind, remembering the doctor's orders to go easy on her knee. The seeds turned out to be perfectly browned and the three of them gathered around to eat them and watch Charlie Brown.

"So Bella, do you have any plans tomorrow?"

"Juliette is having a Halloween party at her house, so I was going to dress up and head over there. I don't know how late it is supposed to go. Probably after midnight."

"You be safe, especially if there's alcohol there."

"Yes, Dad."

"What are you dressing up as, sweetie?"

"A vampire. I found a long red dress and a black cape at the thrift store, and I still have those pop-on fangs from the play I did in high school."

"What? No sexy bunny, kitten, nurse, French maid costumes?"

"Ugh. No. I don't want Mike Newton to try to cop a feel."

"If he does I'll happily break his hand for you."

"Thanks, Dad. I love you too."

When she went to bed, Charlie looked over to Renee and sighed. "She's not telling us everything."

"No. But she's old enough to start making her own decisions."

"Or mistakes."

"Yes. Those, too."

"I need another beer."

* * *

><p>When Halloween evening finally arrived, Bella got dressed in her costume. She painted her nails silver and used the darkest lip liner and color she owned. She outlined her eyes with liquid black liner to mimic the goth look she'd seen other teens use. With her fake teeth glued on and the hood of her cape casting her face in shadow, she looked creepy but also seductive. Perfect.<p>

Juliette lived only two blocks away, so Bella chose to walk, clutching her cape close to her body to shield herself from the cold. As she walked past Doctor Cullen's house, she watched him open the door to a lady bug and a bumble bee whose parents were watching from the sidewalk. His hair glowed gold under the bright porch light. He glanced up and caught her eye as she passed the end of his walkway. She looked away quickly, not wanting to give anything away. She still had three hours to kill.

Juliette was ecstatic when she came to the door and saw Bella there. She rhapsodized over her classic costume. Bella had to stifle her own laughter. True to her father's prediction she counted two bunnies, a cat, Lara Croft complete with holstered fire arms, a French maid and a very scantily clad girl scout troop leader. She had less skin exposed than most of the guys. A few guys were wearing costumes, but a majority of them were dressed in jeans with long sleeved shirts. Mike Newton sought her out immediately and tried to offer her a red plastic cup. She assumed it was beer.

"No thanks. Remember, my dad's a cop. Bad idea."

"Oh right. Of course. We're watching a movie in the other room. Do you want to sit with me?"

Bella heard the movie blasting from the living room. A drill started up followed by shrieks and screams on screen and off. "You're watching Saw? Cool. But are you sure you're okay with all the blood?"

Mike's faced blanched white than turned beet red. "Well, it's not real or anything. I mean, it's cool if you don't want to. Here let me get rid of this." He took the beer back to the kitchen and didn't return.

Bella hung out with Juliette and her other girl friends from high school. Most of them were taking classes at the community college and were comparing their impressions of different teachers and male students. She joined in here and there, but she was really watching the clock, anticipating 10 pm. With most trick-or-treating done before 9 there shouldn't be any kids roaming the streets by that time.

At 9:58 Bella decided it was time to leave. She was the only sober person left in the house. There was a jar full of keys by the front door and several make out sessions steaming up the couches and corners of the house. Nobody noticed when she slipped into the bathroom to remove her dress and ball it up into a plastic bag which she hid within her voluminous cloak. She left through the front door and walked rapidly back the way she came.

Sure enough, the streets were deserted and most of the houses were dark. The Wilson's front yard was done up like a grave yard with flashing strobe lights and fog. It was eerie to walk past with the flickering shadows disrupting her vision. She quickened her steps, anxious to be off the street and eager to reach her destination. She looked around furtively then hid her dress deep within a rhododendron bush when she reached her street. She could collect it tomorrow during her morning walk.

Bella turned up the walkway to Doctor Cullen's rental house and paused. There was a jack-o-lantern on the front step but the candle was out. The curtains were drawn and all of the lights, including the front porch light, were turned off in the universal signal to trick-or-treaters that all the candy was gone or the owners were absent. For a moment she questioned whether he was home, but the silver Volvo was parked in the carport.

She adjusted her cape to cover herself completely and visualized her end goal, Doctor Edward Cullen falling back onto his bed while she climbed on top of him, her knees braced against his ribs, riding him into ecstasy. Her mouth was watering and her knees felt weak as she rang the door bell.

Heavy steps sounded down the stairs from inside but the lights remained off. The door swung open to reveal the doctor wearing close-fitting jeans and a black t-shirt. He looked more like a college student than a licensed physician. And he was wearing his glasses. Bella swayed a little, overcome by the haze of her need.

"Aren't you a little old to be Trick-or-Treating?"

"How old is too old? Or maybe I should ask, how young is young enough?"

"That must be a trick question. Do you want me to say older, or younger?"

"That depends on what you're into. But either way, I'd like a treat." She felt brazen and bold. His eyes were fierce. She parted her lips slightly and ran the tip of her tongue across her fangs.

"Hmmm. You are a dangerous creature. But I have to ask, what exactly are you here for?"

Bella allowed her cape to fall open and cocked her hip to one side. "I already told you, Doctor Cullen. I want a treat."

She saw him swallow heavily as his eyes trailed down her body, taking in the whiteness of her skin, the shallow cleft between her breasts, and the sight of her nipples stiff from cold and excitement pressing against the red satin slip. His gaze felt like a sensual caress gliding past the slit in her slip that exposed her thigh to the brisk October night and on down her legs to her black peep-toe pumps.

"Why don't you come inside? You'll catch a cold out there dressed like that."

"Don't be silly. Vampires don't get sick," she said as she stepped over the threshold.

He was reasonably sure that nobody had seen Bella enter his house, but he scanned the houses in both directions before he closed the door just to be certain. Interest in his comings and goings had died down somewhat, but it was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

"I can't offer you a drink, but I can at least act like a gentleman and take your cloak, Miss Swan."

"Why don't you call me Isabella, for tonight at least?" Bella released the tie at her throat and allowed her cape to slip from her shoulders into his waiting hands. She heard his breath catch for a moment and then his hands were resting on her shoulders. She shivered and tipped her head back, feeling her hair hanging loose, brushing against the top of her butt.

"Hmmm. Isabella. How is your hand?" He ran his fingertips down over her biceps to the crook of her elbow and then around and up along her triceps. The sensitive skin quivered and she let out a breathy gasp.

"As good as new, thanks to a very talented doctor I know. I've even been doing all of my physical therapy. But I'm sure my hands could use some more work if you have any grasping exercises you would like me to try."

"I would suggest allowing your fingers another few days before trying any grabbing, lifting, pulling or squeezing motions. But I do recommend meditation and relaxation exercises."

"What should I do to help me relax?" Bella turned around to face him, quirking her lip seductively.

"Well, for one thing, those shoes can't be very comfortable. Let me help you take them off."

He knelt down in front of her, lifted her left foot and rested it on his thigh. He brought his hands to her right calf, wrapping his long fingers around her and stroking the tender skin behind her knee with his fingertips. Bella squirmed at the sensation and had to grab his shoulder for balance. His hands crept ever so slowly down her calf. With one hand around her ankle and the other at her heel, he removed her shoe and set her bare foot down next to his knee. He repeated the motion with her left foot, swirling his fingertips across her arch before setting her foot down on the other side.

"I also recommend gentle massage." She looked down at him, kneeling between her feet. He ran his hands from her Achilles to her hamstrings, tracing the curves of muscles and the taut tendons. She shook with anticipation as his hands swept beneath her slip and stopped just beneath her butt. Doctor Cullen's thumbs rested below her hip joint and his fingers put a gentle, spreading pressure on her inner thighs. One inch higher and he would be touching her sex. One inch higher and he would know she was bare beneath her slip.

But he didn't raise his hands higher. Instead, he pulled more forcefully until she spread her feet a few inches further apart.

"And after your massage, you should have an earth shattering orgasm. Mmm. I can taste you in the air, Isabella." His voice dropped lower as he spoke. He brushed his lips across her thighs, back and forth, the red satin catching against his whiskers and pulling sideways with each pass of his lips. He exhaled roughly and she felt a rush of heated air slip between her parted thighs. Her stomach clenched in response.

"You're the doctor. I trust your judgment. But who can fill my prescription?"

"Only I can. Put your hands on my shoulders," he instructed. She rested her palms on his shoulders feeling the pull of muscle against bone as he increased the outward pressure on her thighs. She slipped her feet sideways on the carpet and bent her knees slightly. He caught the fabric of her slip with his lips and rose up part way on his knees, lifting her skirt in the process. He raised it higher with his thumbs, bunching it at her hips until she felt his breath against her bare flesh. She felt rather than heard him groan when he saw her. "Beautiful. . ." he whispered, kissing her softly. He continued to kiss her, brushing his lips against hers, occasionally tasting her with his tongue. Bella clutched at his shoulders, impulsively pulling him closer, demanding that he help her release the pressure that was building deep within her stomach.

"Patience, Isabella."

"Please. . ."

"Please what?" He chuckled, his hot breath caressing her lust slickened skin.

"I want to come."

"Don't worry. I'll make you come. I have all the treats you need to be satisfied." Without warning, he grabbed her with one arm behind her thighs and the other across her back. He bent over until she lay on the carpet beneath him, her slip bunched up around her waist, her arms over her head and her feet wide apart.

He crawled backwards, nudged her thighs further apart with his elbows, and lowered his mouth to kiss her again. He explored her body with his lips first, and then his tongue, stroking, kissing, then sucking and nibbling. Within minutes, Bella was writhing beneath him. He persisted in his attention, making her shake and cry out. She felt a pressure building steadily in her throat. It mirrored the swelling heat that grew within her womb, expanding until tendrils of fire crawled across her limbs and lapped at the base of her skull.

He let out a ferocious growl that sent shock waves of lust though her core. He grabbed her thighs, spread her knees even further, and attacked her with his mouth.

Her senses imploded. She sprang free from gravity, unbound and uninhibited as she shrieked out her mind-bending ecstasy. "Edward!" Her body could not contain the sensation. As her orgasm swept through, her back arched and every muscle in her body contracted in simultaneous, wrenching waves of pleasure. He licked her in time to her convulsions, feeling her clench, moist and swollen against his lips. The waves gradually receded, taking her with them, leaving behind a limp, gasping shell.

Bella tasted blood. She had punctured her lip with one of her false teeth. She licked the wound, tasting copper on her tongue and a sultry sweetness in the air. Doctor Cullen was kneeling between her thighs, his fingers drawing languid patterns against her skin. He was examining her expression. She blushed beneath his gaze and he grinned.

"Now you look relaxed. If you come back after dinner on Tuesday, Ms. Swan, I'll help you come up with some exercises for your hand."

She eyed the rigid shape within his jeans and licked her lips again. When she returned, she planned to exercise more than just her hands.

* * *

><p>Reviews are better than lemon drops. And I love lemon drops. A lot. Thanks!<p> 


	2. Sandcastles (K)

**"Sandcastles"**

**Universe: AH**

**Rating: K+**

**Characters: Bella, Edward**

**Genre: Hurt/Comfort**

**Summary: 7-year-old Bella Swan discovers that when life takes a tragic turn, it's good to have a friend beside you.**

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. Duh.

* * *

><p>It was a rare sunny October afternoon in Forks. A seven year old girl with long brown hair plaited down the center of her back sat on the front porch of her house watching the street. Her knees were drawn up and she had one arm wrapped tightly around her legs. She was picking absently at the pealing yellow paint with her right hand, exposing a layer of dirty white primer and aged boards beneath.<p>

Bella Swan was fighting with grown-up emotions - grief, hope, frustration and despair. Three days of searching, hundreds of fliers, phone calls to every vet and animal shelter within fifty miles and still no news. Her parents told her solemnly they had done everything they could. Jake might be gone for good. But she hadn't lost hope. Not yet. Somewhere out there he was hurting, scared, lonely, missing her. Somewhere out there her best friend was lost and she was helpless to do anything about it.

The sound of sneakers scraping against pavement brought her attention back to the moment. The neighbor boy was finally home from school. Her parents hadn't made her go today. They said she could stay home from school on Monday, but only Monday, just in case anybody called in response to the 'lost dog' posters. Nobody had. They had heard of two sightings over the weekend but neither lead panned out.

The boy stopped at the end of the footpath and returned her silent stare. He knew from her posture that there was no news yet. He had ridden around with her all Saturday morning posting signs and handing out fliers. He hurt for her. Jake wasn't his dog but her knew how much Bella loved him. He was her first birthday present. She had no memories that did not include the shaggy, russet brown pup. Bella and Jake were a two for one package. When Edward moved into the house next door three years ago, he had accepted this truth matter-of-factly.

Edward walked slowly up to her, his back pack hanging loosely off his left shoulder. "So, no news, huh?"

She shook her head despondently in reply. He shuffled his feet awkwardly then sat down next to her.

"Where do you think he ran away to?"

Bella lifted one shoulder and dropped it. She didn't know. Jake had never been away from her for more than a few hours at a time. He slept in her bed, ate the scraps from her plate that she sneaked under the table, followed her to the door when she left for school and was waiting on the porch when she came home. She didn't recognize her life without him. It was stiff and cold and so, so lonely.

"Why would he run off like that? Something must have been wrong."

"I don't know. He was acting strange. He's been acting a little weird ever since he got in that fight with the raccoon before school started. I thought he was just scared, but maybe he was hurt bad and we just didn't realize. And then on Friday morning he wouldn't come down for breakfast. He growled at me! Mom says that sometimes dogs and cats, if they're hurt real bad, will go away to be alone when it's time to say good-bye. I know she means he's dead. But he never did say good-bye. He wouldn't go without saying good-bye to me, would he?" Edward patted the younger child's shoulder, trying to comfort her the way his dad always did when he was sad or worried. She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "If Jake is really dead, could you be my best friend? Everyone else has a best friend now except me."

"I'll always be your friend. You've been my friend since I moved here and didn't know anybody at all."

"Even though you're a big kid and I'm only seven?"

"I'm only three years older than you. My dad is eleven years older than my mom and they're best friends. He says age is just a number. So, what do best friends do?"

"Jake and I would chase each other on the paths behind the house and play hide-and-seek in the woods. We used to wrestle but Mom always got angry when we did that. She said it ruined my clothes. And we would dig in the sand box. Do you want to build a sand castle?"

"I thought you could only build sand castles at the beach."

"Mom is allergic to sand fleas. They make her itch. That's why Dad built me a sand box."

"Okay. Sure. I'm going to take my bag home and tell my mom that I'll be over here."

"Okay! I'll ask my mom if we can have a snack!" Bella jumped up, revitalized in the elastic manner of children with a new outlet for their energy and affection. She bounded through the front door while the neighbor boy walked to his house, no longer trudging or dragging his heels.

He didn't tell her how much her request meant to him. He was a loner at school. In that small, tight-knit community, he was an outcast; skinny, shy and not used to the rough games and horseplay that the other boys had grown up with. His father was a physician and an academic. He was obviously leaning that direction himself. Bella's request for him to be her new best friend sunk deep into his chest and made his heart glow with warmth. He had witnessed her all-consuming, unconditional love for Jake. As badly as he felt for her losing her dog, he would be thrilled if she transferred even a fraction of that devotion to him.

When Edward came back outside, Renee Swan had laid out a thick quilt with a plate of crackers, sliced cheese and grapes before disappearing back into the house. Bella was sitting cross-legged on the blanket waiting patiently for him to join her before digging in. Edward was famished. The school lunch portions were small and unpalatable so he was always starving by the time he got home. They ate quietly and then he watched her as she carefully sprinkled the remaining crumbs for the industrious ants to collect and transport back to their hill.

When the last morsel had been carried off into the damp grass, Bella stood up, brushed herself off in a business like way and stepped into the sand box. It was eight feet square made from rough milled 2x10 cedar planks and joined at each corner with metal brackets. The box was filled more than half way with fine gray sand intermixed with many years of pine needles, leaves and twigs. Bella set about raking the worst of the detritus away until there was a smooth, uniform plain to work on.

"It's good having you as a partner. You can help me draw the plan and then we can pick which part to start on first. I want to build a medieval castle like in my books. We can use the yellow and orange buckets for the towers and the blue square one to make the walls. Can you dig a moat? Jake used to do all the digging but he wasn't good at following a plan."

"Sure. And we can make a draw bridge out of one of the old shingles in the wood pile. Dad had extras after he built the shed last year."

"Perfect. And we can use string from Mom's garden for the ropes. All the beans and peas are dead."

"If you want, we can make it like Cinderella's castle. My mom bought a bunch of those little pumpkins from Thriftway. I could grab one to be her carriage."

"Oooh! And these little pinecones could be the mice!"

Edward felt self-conscious at first, playing make-believe with a girl. However, his imagination once unleashed refused to slow down. He set to work digging the moat with a smile of anticipation on his face. Before long they were both filthy with dirt on their faces and sand wedged beneath their finger nails. The sand was cold and damp, but that made it perfect for packing and molding into walls and turrets. An hour flew by while they formed, sculpted and adjusted details on their castle.

"Now for the carriage and draw bridge. I'll be right back," Edward said as he clambered out of the sand box and dashed across to his back yard. His mom was watching T.V. so he skulked past the entryway to the living room and into the dining room, tracking sand and crushed grass stems across the linoleum. He picked the roundest, orangest pumpkin from the elaborate autumn centerpiece his mom had designed on the massive oak table. Back outside, he found the shingles right where he remembered them. He sorted through the pile, impatiently brushing away spiders' egg sacks and soggy leaves. Most of the shingles were too wide or split at odd angles from 15 months of exposure to the elements. Finally he found the perfect one. He wiped off the worst of the dirt and headed back to Bella's yard.

"Jake? Jake! Where have you been?!" Bella's voice was high pitched with excitement and surprise. Edward looked around in shock, finally spotting the familiar reddish-brown dog creeping from the tree line.

Something wasn't right. Jake's fur was matted in some areas and raised stiff and bristling in others. He paused and growled, quivering with some unnamed inner torment, and then slunk forward again. Bella was standing just inside the sand box. She recognized that something was off, too, and stood frozen, shaking with confusion and fear at the transformation. Jake was still advancing but he showed no sign of recognizing his beloved playmate. Suddenly, with his frothing mouth wide open, the dog lunged.

Edward acted on instinct. He sprinted toward Jake, shouting and waving the shingle above his head. At the last second, he heaved the water-logged wedge of cedar as hard as he could, striking the dog a glancing blow. Jake wheeled in mid-air, landing with muddy paws braced to face the attack. Just then, Edward heard the familiar sound of Chief Swan's cruiser pulling into the drive way.

"Bella! Get your dad. Run! Now!"

With a cry of anguish, the girl spun on her heel and took two steps. In her panic she misjudged and tripped over the edge of the box, sprawling face-first in the grass. Jake's head whipped around, the soft brown eyes that used to glow with love were gone, replaced by blood-shot madness. With shaggy mane rippling he swung his head from side to side, unable to decide which prey to attack. Bella scrambled back to her feet and backed away from the horrifying apparition, sobbing through her grief and fear. Perhaps it was some latent recognition, or the beast's instinct to attack the weaker foe, but Jake charged for Bella.

Somehow Edward was able to run, throw and tackle like he was incapable of doing during P.E. with the other boys. He flung himself through the air. His full weight impacted the dog's chest and the two tumbled over and over, growling, yelling, and scrapping with a primeval instinct to fight, kill, and triumph over the enemy.

"Get your dad, Bella!" Edward gasped out, trying desperately to avoid the slavering, foam-flecked teeth and wickedly sharp claws.

Chief Swan heard his daughter's cries of distress the moment he exited his vehicle. With a massive burst of adrenaline he came sprinting around the house and took in the terrible scene at a glance.

"Get inside, Isabella, and have your mother call 911." He barely broke stride, but he paused long enough to make sure she was following his instructions. The neighbor's kid was wrestling with the mad beast that used to be his daughter's most treasured companion. Blood stood out like crimson paint in brilliant splashes across the boys' face, arms and the torn and muddy grass. He drew his weapon, released the safety, grabbed the writhing, dog by the scruff of its neck, and fired a bullet through the side of its skull. The body stiffened and arched gruesomely, rebelling against the immediacy of death before falling limply from his grasp.

Edward lay panting, dazed and bleeding. His thighs were torn in dozens of long, ugly claw marks. His arms fared slightly better. But his hands and jaw showed quickly spreading bruises and blood seeping from several puncture wounds and cuts. Charlie Swan gathered the lanky boy into his arms, recognizing the signs and symptoms of rapidly developing shock. He spared a glance of regret at the lifeless dog before hurrying into the house. The boy didn't weigh very much, but Charlie's lower back was screaming from the awkward weight before he settled him onto the couch in the living room. He assessed his injuries and could tell that none were immediately life threatening, but the likelihood of complications with such filthy wounds was high. And the possibility of a rabies infection loomed, a nauseating specter.

"Renee, did you reach dispatch?"

"Yes, an ambulance should be here in five minutes. And I called Esme. Carlisle is on call in the ER right now. He'll be there waiting for us. I'm so sorry. I was running the vacuum and I had the music set too loud. I didn't hear anything until there was a gunshot. Is he going to be okay?"

"Everything's going to be fine," Charlie reassured her, hiding his misgivings for the benefit of the children. "I'm going to change out of my uniform quickly. Keep an eye on the boy."

Edward had been silent for the duration of this exchange, but his eyes were regaining their focus and he scanned the room for his little friend. Bella was standing in the corner, hugging herself while tears ran unheeded down her face. Catching Edward's gaze, she crossed the room and knelt down beside the couch. She didn't understand how any of this had happened. Jake's shots were supposed to protect him from getting sick. But they had failed. She might never know how or why. But she did know that monster outside wasn't her puppy. He was something alien. And Edward had sacrificed himself to save her.

She mimicked his gesture from earlier, patting his shoulder gently. He offered her a tremulous smile. He was in excruciating pain and terrified of what was to come. Stories of the cure for rabies were on par with urban legends at school. He didn't know if he could tolerate the shots and other inhumane treatments he was sure to be subjected to. But looking into Bella's compassionate brown eyes he knew that somehow, he wasn't sure how, everything was going to be okay. Whatever he had to face, it was worth it. He had been there when his best friend needed him most.

* * *

><p>Have an idea for a Halloween one-shot? Send me your prompts. . . if you dare. Mwah hah hah hah<p> 


	3. Super Fan (T)

**"Super Fan"**

**Universe: Twilight Fandom**

**Rating: T**

**Genre: Humor**

**Summary: Brenna is Edward Cullen's biggest fan. This Halloween she decides to take a drastic step to capture the vampire of her dreams.**

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. Duh.

* * *

><p>Brenna loved Twilight. And, loving Twilight meant she loved Edward Cullen. Loving Edward Cullen meant she loved Robert Pattinson. She couldn't get enough of him. She sucked up every drop of tabloid gossip and drooled over every new photo shoot. She knew she was obsessed. She didn't think that was a bad thing. After all, that man was gorgeous on every level.<p>

She heard her parents whispered conversations when she traipsed up the stairs after a visit to Hot Topic carrying a life-size cardboard cutout of Edward with his sulking, smoldering, sexy glare. She didn't care. She didn't expect them to understand. She placed the 2-D replica of her future husband in the corner by the window so he could watch her sleep. Sometimes, when she woke at night, she would imagine him sitting in the rocking chair, watching her. She would fold back her purple comforter (identical to Bella's – purchased for $70.13 on Amazon) and kneel on her bed hoping he would step forward to share a passionate, breathless kiss. He never did. So she practiced on the back of her hand, imagining it to be as cold and unyielding as Edward's lips.

It took four and a half months and all of her baby sitting money – plus a sizable loan from her long-suffering mother – to decorate her room like Bella's from the first movie. She had begged and pleaded until her dad helped her carry and assemble the pine furniture she needed to recreate the Northwest, small-town atmosphere. She had repainted the walls a soft turquoise and hung similar artwork on the walls. Her computer was more modern and not all of the books on the shelf matched exactly, but she was proud of the details she had managed to duplicate.

When she started her junior year her obsession reached new heights. This was the year that Bella had met Edward! Brenna was 17 years old, brunette and a virgin. That had to count for something, right? She wasn't very good at science or language arts, but she did her best to live up to the Bella Model. Truthfully, she though Wuthering Heights was depressing and disturbing, but she read it multiple times anyway. Edward loved Bella and Bella loved Wuthering Heights. If she wanted to stand a chance of attracting his attention, even within the enabling realm of her own imagination, she needed to simulate his soul mate as closely as possible.

Her parents were mildly concerned, but believed she would eventually grow out of it. A crush on an imaginary character/unattainable celebrity was safer than pursuing a real-life horny teenage boy. Besides, Brenna was getting better grades than ever before, talking about college prospects, and frequently volunteered to cook dinner, clean the bathroom and do laundry. In between re-reading Twilight and surfing the gossip sites online, of course.

One night in early October, Brenna sat on her bed thinking hard and staring at the empty rocking chair in the corner. She was frustrated. She was a smart girl and knew that her efforts, while valiant, were not going to cause Robert Pattinson/Edward Cullen to materialize in her bedroom. She needed supernatural help.

The next day, after school, she walked into town and visited Madame Fieri's book store. Madame Fieri sold books on healing and meditation. She also dabbled in the occult. She listened with uncanny stillness as Brenna detailed her tale of woe. She was embarrassed at first, but when Madame Fieri didn't laugh or shoo her away, she gained confidence.

"Hmmm. I have heard of this Edward Cullen boy. He seems to have gained a powerful hold over the minds of young girls and even mature women the whole world over. When you spend as much time linked to the spirit realm as I do, you learn to take notice of phenomena like this. Artists and authors have a special power. I'm not referring to everyone who picks up a pen or a paint brush, mind you. I speak of those who open themselves to the visions and inspiration that control their art. They are in communion with other dimensions and, through their chosen medium, can share these other universes with the world."

"Wait. . . do you mean to say that you believe Edward Cullen is real? Somewhere, in another part of the universe, vampires really exist?"

"I have not spoken to them myself, but I do communicate with enough beings we would not classify as human to know that he is a very real possibility. You must admit, the force of the Twilight story took over with supernatural rapidity. One could say that Twilight gathered an almost religious following."

Brenna thought of her bedroom which she had transformed into a sort of shrine. She considered her morning and evening rituals of reading and meditating on passages from the novels. She thought about her dozens of bookmarked websites, blogs and online communities where hundreds of thousands of other girls and even a few boys shared their persistent attachment to the Saga that had transformed their lives and perspective on love.

"I think you must be right. When I read the first book, I just had a sense he was something more than fiction. Even Stephenie Meyer says that Edward visited her in his dreams and that's where she learned his story."

"So now we come to your problem. . ."

"Yes. I know that my chances are slim, but I feel like I need to try to reach him. Sitting passively and waiting for him to find me isn't enough. I'll go crazy. If he's out there, and I can reach him, I have to give it a try."

"Hmmm. You're talking about a very big step. You are reaching out across the plains of eternity to try to speak with another soul. I have been training and practicing for decades, and the effort it takes to speak to those who will listen is both physically and mentally exhausting. But you seem to be determined. Your focus is clearly defined and unwavering. I think. . . maybe. . . with you it could be possible."

"Really? Do you think so? What do I need to do?"

"Have you ever used an Ouija board?"

"I thought that was just a game."

"Ahhh. To most it is. But it is also a powerful tool in the hands of a witch like me. And possibly you, too."

Brenna was skeptical, but Madame Fieri had spoken with such confidence and sincerity that she decided to press forward with an open mind. The fact was, she had gone there looking for answers and a teacher had willingly responded.

An hour later, Brenna left the quaint shop with her very own Ouija board and two sticks of incense wrapped in a brown paper bag and tucked under her arm. Madam Fieri had shown her how to prepare herself and her room. Using the board was surprisingly easy. The wood had felt warm and comfortable beneath her fingertips. Brenna was impatient for All Hallows Eve to arrive, the day of power when a link to the other realms would be easier to establish.

The next several weeks passed in a haze of anxiety and excitement. When Nadia invited her to a Halloween party she found it hard to turn down the invitation in a manner that wouldn't invite scrutiny. Nadia was bubbly and boy-crazy but also incredibly smart. Brenna was only friends with her because she reminded her of Jessica from the Twilight books. She figured that every Bella needed a shallow, snarky friend to make them feel clumsy, plain and in all ways inferior.

October 31st finally arrived with a blistering wind and storm clouds on the horizon. It promised to be a terrible night for trick-or-treating. Brenna excused herself from dinner and escaped to her room. Her parents exchanged knowing looks. She spent every spare second on the internet searching for new pictures of her earthbound Edward Cullen avatar, Robert Pattinson. They were used to her behavior by that point.

Brenna was well into her preparations when her mother knocked on the door an hour later.

"Brenna? Do I smell smoke? Or is that incense? What are you doing in there?"

"Nothing, Mom. I'm just cleaning my room. A friend from school said that incense helped keep the moisture down so I'm trying that out. For my books. And to smell good. I'll put it out before I go to bed. Promise!"

"Okay then. Just make sure you had it over a fire-proof holder."

"Yes, Mom. It's on a big plate."

"Okay, sweetie. Well, Dad and I are going to watch a movie and hand out candy. Let me. . ." _Ding Dong._ "Oh, I better get that. Just be safe, okay?"

"Yes, Mom!" Brenna breathed a sigh of relief. She hoped the trick-or-treaters would keep her parents busy until she was finished.

Kneeling on her floor, surrounded by candles with her new Ouija board placed between her and the cardboard Edward Cullen, Brenna finally felt like she was ready. She rested her hands gently on her knees, closed her eyes and breathed in the smoky air. She exhaled and inhaled five more times, willing her heart to slow and her mind to open.

She employed another meditation technique that Madame Fieri had shown her, humming gently through her nose each time she exhaled, feeling the subtle vibration creep around her skull, down her spine and into the floorboards beneath her knees.

When she felt calm and centered she drew in all of her thoughts and all of her senses to focus them on one point of light. _Edward_. She projected his name and her passion for him, the fascination and the adoration that consumed her. She pictured his face as he had appeared to her when she first read Twilight. He did look surprisingly similar to Robert Pattinson, only younger with a straighter nose and sharper cheekbones. His eyebrows climbed in a sculpted arc over the piercing honeyed gold of his irises. And his lips. . .

Brenna felt the familiar bloom of love in her chest and was struck by an answering call. Her heart jolted through its next several beats and she felt a pulling, tugging sensation. She held onto the image of Edward, calling his name into the deep and silent void that spread out before her mind's eye. The tugging increased momentarily and then sparked and snapped like an electric shock, knocking her off balance.

She opened her eyes and looked around. The candle flames were dancing wildly. The incense smoke curled around the perimeter of her room, clinging to the walls as if held back from the center by a physical force. Brenna looked up at her love's image and felt as if there was true depth and feeling in those golden eyes.

In a trancelike state, Brenna put out the candles and snuffed the half-burnt sticks of incense. She put away her Ouija board, realizing with a start that she had never even used it. But she felt as if something powerful had happened all the same. She returned Edward to his place of honor with a hopeful kiss across his life-like lips. With a sigh of contentment she climbed into bed. She had done everything she could. Now, it was truly up to Edward. If he didn't respond tonight of all nights, she would have to acknowledge that her dream would always remain a dream and nothing more.

Perhaps she was exhausted from the weeks of anticipation. Or maybe the effort of stretching her will across the expanse of creation had depleted her strength. Brenna passed into a deep slumber with very little effort.

Her subconscious wandered along familiar paths of hope and fantasy. _She lay on a blanket in a small sunlit meadow. Beneath the shadow of the trees he stood, watching her. She beckoned and he stepped cautiously forward to join her._ This was the part where her dream always got good. Her sleeping mind waited in tense anticipation for the moment when his features would become visible, reflecting and refracting the sun's rays in scintillating flashes of light. That moment never came. _The shadowed figure paused, looking over his shoulder into the shadows. An unearthly screech shattered the stillness. Brenna felt and saw the sunlight disappear as heavy clouds tumbled across the sky and a brisk breeze whipped through the meadow._ Brenna woke with a start. What had happened? That particular dream was as familiar and well-worn as her favorite sneakers. Something was different.

She shivered and clutched her blankets tightly to her torso as another blast of chill air swirled through her room. She gaped at the open window.

Her rocking chair was bobbing in the corner. And there was a figure outlined dimly against the wall, gliding closer with silent steps.

"Brenna. . ." the figured whispered in a voice both achingly familiar and foreign to her ears. "I've tried to stay away from you, but I just can't any longer."

With a start Brenna recognized the profile of her Edward. She scrambled to her knees, heedless of the cold, damp air raising goose pimples on her bare legs. "Edward. . . is that really you? Are you really here?"

"Yes, my love," the figure spoke, moving even closer, then pausing at the end of her bed.

Brenna couldn't believe that it had worked! Madame Fieri was not a fraud, she really had supernatural insight. And now Edward was here. He had chosen her! Out of all the obsessed fans around the world, she had succeeded in capturing his attention and winning his heart! Brenna couldn't breathe. Her heart was swelling so big that there was no room in her chest for air.

She was frozen in anticipation. This was it. The moment she had dreamed about and re-enacted a hundred times. Edward Cullen was going to kiss her. She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched herself hard, and then she re-opened them. He was still there. This was real!

At that moment she heard heavy footsteps in the hall. _Oh no! Dad's coming!_

Edward didn't disappear out the window or hide in her closet. He stood there unmoving as the door burst open and the light flicked on, blinding her with its sudden brightness.

"Bella, how many times have a told you, no vampires in your room after 10 pm!"

"Dad?" Brenna gasped in horror. He was wearing a police officer uniform and a bushy mustache. Her eyes darted to Edward only to see her 2D cutout tipping and shaking violently while her mother collapsed into a helpless, giggling heap.

"Mom, Dad! Oh, my gosh! You guys are so mean!"

Worst. Halloween. Ever.

* * *

><p>Have an idea for a Halloween one-shot? Send me your prompts. . . if you dare. Mwah hah hah hah<p> 


	4. Fate Unfolding (T)

**"Fate Unfolding" **(This is an old story I wrote and dusted off to share here)**  
><strong>

**Universe: AU**

**Rating: T (For Violence/Gore)**

**Characters: Edward, Bella, Jake**

**Genre: Horror**

**Summary: When Bella moves to Forks, Edward chooses to keep his distance and allow her to live her life untouched by supernatural influences. But fate has other plans. The resurrection of the undead on Halloween night forces him to make a choice: Save the woman he loves the only way he can, or watch her die in his arms.**

**Disclaimer: Is there any universe where Stephenie Meyer does not own Twilight? Nope. Didn't think so.**

* * *

><p>I stifled a groan as the total price on the gas pump rose higher and higher. My thirsty truck was sucking the fuel down with pronounced gulps and gurgles. I rubbed my hands together, warding off the morning cold. It was a chilly Saturday morning with the typical layer of thick, stratus clouds that blanketed the whole Northwest at this time of year. Despite the shivers that fought to overtake my body, I was excited about today. Jake and I were spending the day together and then I was going to help pass out candy to the little trick-or-treaters. I had never really been a big fan of Halloween. In fact, I turned down several invitations to parties with my classmates at Forks High. However, Jake and I were softly treading the ground between friendship and something more and I was nervous , excited and eager to spend more time with him.<p>

A loud clunk and a jerk from the pump nozzle woke me from my day-dreams and I quickly replaced my gas cap and climbed back into my rusty, orange pick-up. I double-pumped the clutch and turned the key. . .

My truck gasped, and then nothing. . .

_No, no, no, no!_

A flash of silver caught my eye and I looked up involuntarily. A familiar car pulled up to the adjacent pump but the driver remained in his seat. His eyes were fixed on my truck and I shivered under the intensity of his gaze. 9 1/2 months in Forks, many of which I spent sharing the halls and classrooms of Forks High with the inhumanly beautiful Edward Cullen, and yet he had never spoken a word to me. The first time I walked into Biology as a Junior, new to the school, nervous and shy, he had fixed me with the most hate-filled stare. After that day, he adjusted his schedule to include senior-level biology and I was never within 20 feet of him again. Surreptitious peeks and glances gained me nothing; he was an enigma. And yet I felt a strange connection with him which simultaneously pulled me in and repelled me.

Down in La Push, goofing around with Jake, it was easy to forget his dazzling beauty and haunted eyes, but whenever I saw him my stomach seemed to plummet and twist within me. With a shuddering breath I dragged my eyes back to my dashboard, hunched my shoulders and pumped the gas pedal several times. This time, when I turned the key, the engine sputtered then roared to life. I gripped the steering wheel tightly and pulled carefully back onto the highway. I cast a furtive peek in my rearview mirror and my eyes locked with Edward Cullen's. He stood stiffly beside his vehicle watching me until I rounded a corner and the green-swathed trees released me from his magnetic pull.

Uncomfortable and confused I turned my thoughts to Jacob, determined to enjoy our day despite the ominous fog that hugged the ground and the strange flickering tension I felt within me.

* * *

><p><em>The fire burned my throat, building my thirst into a vicious beast. I wrestled it back into submission, drinking in the scent of my prey, savoring the sweetness which brought so much pain with its pleasurable bouquet.<em>

_Isabella Swan. . . Not my prey. No, never._

_Never. Always. Forever._

_So many words that spoke of eternity, casually tossed around by mortals, simple creatures who could not comprehend the passing of centuries, millennia, endless sunrises and sunsets. But I knew what it really meant to say 'never'. I would never taste her essence. I would never crush her warm throat to my teeth. Her scarlet blood would never wash down my eager throat to sooth the eternal fire that scorched my flesh. I would battle this desire every day and I would live. I was stronger than the beast within me. . . the past months had proven this fact time and time again._

_So, why was I so afraid? How was it possible that my lust for her blood paled in comparison to my desire to capture a single strand of her hair between my fingers? To brush the silk of her skin with my fingertips?_

_I watched her decrepit truck as it pulled away, her tantalizing scent dissipating slowly in the cool morning breeze. Her depthless eyes haunted me. The silence of her mind enchanted me. I filled my gas tank in silence, contemplating all that I wished I was and all that I could never be._

* * *

><p>"Bella!" Jake opened my door and pulled me into a fierce hug before I had even engaged the parking brake.<p>

"Jake, too tight. . . need to breathe!" I gasped, giggling against his chest.

"Breathing is overrated," he grumbled as he released me, grabbed my bag and dragged me into the house. The tiny living room was cluttered with boxes that Jake had dragged down from the attic. A small pile of Halloween items lay to one side, including fake headstones, cobwebs and those cheap black spiders that always used to freak me out as a kid.

"Here, you start scarying up the front of the house while I get the boxes back up to the attic, okay?" he continued with a grin.

"Scarying up? Is that a real word?"

"It is now! Hurry up. I want to carve our pumpkins quickly so we can go for a hike at lunch time."

"Yes, sir," I glared at his retreating figure but grabbed an armful of decorations and headed back into the misty morning air.

Jake joined me 15 minutes later and immediately set about correcting everything I had done. Most days I thought nothing of our two-year age difference, but when he acted so childish I couldn't help rolling my eyes. It was not even 10 o'clock when we sat down with the two large, orange pumpkins we had picked from the pumpkin patch last weekend. Jake eyed my pumpkin-carving knife skeptically.

I brandished it at him with a growl, "Mind your own business. I'm not going to cut myself."

"Sure, sure," he muttered before turning his attention back to his own project.

I occasionally snuck glances at him, noting the deep crease between his dark brown eyes as he concentrated on carving a masterpiece. His raven hair hung in a heavy veil on either side of his face, a face that was quickly taking on the sharp jaw and angular lines of manhood. Jake had transformed so much in the last several months, putting on inches and pounds of muscle. More and more often I was startled to find my eyes wandering over his chest and shoulders, sparking a warm sense of anticipation in my stomach. Once he had caught my gaze and held it, a soft, crooked smile on his lips. I returned his smile before ducking my head to hide the sudden blush that burned my cheeks.

That had been the start. . . Now I frequently caught him assessing my body in the same way. It was a heady rush. It made me feel beautiful, wanted. He hadn't kissed me yet. But. . .

"So, what do you think?"

"Huh?"

"Earth to Bella!"

"Oh, sorry, what?" I stumbled over my own words, embarrassed to be caught wool-gathering again.

"Check it out, what do you think?" He turned his pumpkin to face me, proudly displaying his carving.

"Wow, that's awesome, Jake! Ummm, what is it?" I finished hesitantly. I couldn't make any sense of the holes and slashed that marred the once-smooth pumpkin's skin.

"What, are you blind? It's a cat next to a tree with a full moon overhead. See?" Jake pointed impatiently to each item and I couldn't help laughing.

"Um, Jake? It honestly doesn't look anything like a cat. I'm sorry."

He reassessed his carving, looking back and forth between my face and the mangled gourd.

"Okay, fine. Whatever," he groaned with a smirk. "Let's make yours good then."

We spent the next half hour giggling and cutting until we had a pretty terrifying face carved into it, complete with fangs and slanting eyes.

"Hey, look," Jake laughed, "It's one of the Cullens!"

At the mention of Edward's reclusive family my laughter suddenly sounded fake and high-pitched to my ears. I chuckled uncomfortably.

"Um, what do you mean? "

"I was just kidding. Some of the older guys were talking after school about how the Cullens must love Halloween since it is all about creepy creatures like them. They listen to too many dumb stories." Jake carried on laughing and talking, oblivious to the chill that had settled over me. Edward had always been cold and distant. In fact, I sensed on an instinctive level that he was dangerous, but I didn't think I could call the near-perfect beauty and symmetry of his features and those of his siblings and adoptive parents creepy.

"Well, I think that does it," Jake clapped his hands together. "Let's get cleaned up and go for a hike, I packed a picnic lunch!"

"Oh, great. Did you remember to take the wrappers off the cheese slices this time?" I teased, referring to an unfortunate sandwich-making incident from the summer.

"Whatever, Bella. You don't have to eat them. More for me!" he patted his stomach smugly as he sauntered into the house to wash up.

* * *

><p><em>I pulled into the narrow, tree-lined lane with trepidation. I had no desire for company today. The knowing glances and critical thoughts of my family had gotten tiresome and I found little pleasure in anything other than my music. With downcast eyes, I exited my car and ambled slowly up to the house. My petite, dark-haired sister sat quietly on the steps, evaluating me with her sad but knowing eyes.<em>

_Her mood held more than sadness for my distracted state-of-mind. She was shaken and disturbed by something but unable to put her feelings into defined thoughts or words._

_"Alice. . ." I greeted her quietly._

_"Edward, we need to talk."_

_I took a seat on the wooden steps beside her, staring across the yard toward the river. Alice leaned her head against my shoulder with a sigh. I waited for her to speak, monitoring the fleeting images that swam through her mind. Nothing seems to stick or be clear. Even our own immediate futures, those simple visions that Alice took for granted like the moment somebody would stand or speak, were strangely absent. She was almost panicking; essentially blind, deaf and nauseated by the bizarre sensations. Overlaying it all was an insidious feeling of dread. Something terrible was going to happen. Something evil and unnatural and we had no way to determine what, where or when this would take place._

_I felt Jasper's presence before I heard him. His thoughts were controlled as he desperately tried to dampen Alice's fear and panic while quelling his own concern for his mate. His control astounded me. I knew that, if he released it, we would all be incapacitated by the surge of negative feelings._

_Alice held her opposite arm up, beckoning him to join us. He sat down gracefully, sandwiching tiny Alice between us. She shook violently with another half-vision; an area of forest floor slashed and broken with fresh churned earth. She recoiled from the sense of _wrong_ that pervaded the place, but with no reference for time or location we could only sit and wait for something clearer to come to her._

* * *

><p>We parked my truck on the abandoned logging trail. Jake shouldered the bag with our food, and we began our trek into the dripping, overgrown woods. Bathed in filtered green light, our surroundings held a surreal beauty. My body was humming with a strange energy, one that I was quickly associating with being alone and close to Jake. He gallantly helped me over fallen trees and other obstacles, holding my hand and resting his other hand against my waist. I leaned into his touch and didn't release his hand. He smiled shyly down at our joined hands but said nothing. My body hummed in pleasure at the warmth that seemed to creep up my arm.<p>

We hiked for about two hours before we came to a narrow stream. We sat down on the damp, mossy rocks to eat our lunch. The afternoon passed with the same easy joy that I always felt in Jacob's company. After our sandwiches were gone, thankfully there was no plastic between the bread slices, we simply held hands and swapped stories about Halloweens growing up. I had my mother, Renee, to thank for some of the crazier things we had done. Jake and I both agreed that haunted houses were the best and made plans to make the drive to Seattle next year to find a good one.

"It's getting late, we really should head back. Want to see if we can cut our time down?" Jake was already on his feet and bouncing with energy.

I groaned but climbed to me feet and followed him back along the narrow trail.

"Wow, you are slow, aren't you?" he teased. "Must be because you're so old!"

"Right, because 18 is positively ancient," I snapped. I preferred not to think about the fact that I was, essentially, an adult and Jacob still hadn't taken his driver's test.

"Old and grouchy. Come on, see if your old bones can do this!"

Jake leaped up onto a fallen tree trunk and jumped over six feet to another log. The following seconds seemed to slow to a frame-by-frame video and my stomach lurched into my throat. As Jake's feet landed on the second log, the rotten wood and moss slipped beneath his feet. He landed on the other side with a thud and a sickeningly loud crack. His sharp cry of pain sent me scrambling after him. I pulled myself onto the second log and was immediately struck by a wave of vertigo. Jake was lying face-down in soggy leaves, his body shuddering in agony as a dark stain spread across the left leg of his jeans. His lower leg, just below the knee, was jutting out at an impossible angle.

My face felt too hot, my hands were icy, numb and distant. I could barely hear Jake's gasping sobs over the roaring in my ears.

"Jake, oh my God, Jake!" I felt the hysteria rising, adrenaline beating back the fog that crowded my brain.

"Bella," he hissed. "I can't. . . my leg. . . please. . ."

"Jake, I don't know what to do!" I cried with scalding tears streaming down my face. My vision blurred but I could still see the steady creep of blood that was quickly soaking his pant leg.

"I need. . . to roll over. Help me?"

Shivering violently, fighting the urge to retch, I grasped Jake's left shoulder. We both took a deep breath and then he pushed and I heaved him over onto his back. His shriek of pain tore through me and I sobbed against clenched fists, terrified to look at his grotesquely twisted limb. Jakes eyes were pinched tightly shut, his jaw clenched so that the veins in his neck throbbed with every pounding heartbeat.

"My bag. . . knife. . . need a thick, straight stick. . ."

"Okay, okay, please, just don't move!" I choked out. I scrambled to grab his bag, emptying out most of the contents before I found a sheathed knife. I set the knife beside him and began digging through the leaves around us until I found several thick, straight sticks. The adrenaline seemed to be sharpening my vision, my actions were more precise and the smell of blood and dirt and rot became just a vague scent in the background.

Jake's face was grey and his lips pale with shock by the time I returned to his side.

"We need to splint my leg so I can walk. It's going to be dark in less than two hours. We have to get back to the truck." Jake's eyes rolled back by the end of this long speech and he took three shallow breaths before continuing. "Bells, I need you to cut my jeans open, pull my leg straight and then bind it with two of the strongest sticks and my scarf. Can you do that?"

_Noooo!_ I wanted to scream, but I only nodded hastily.

My heart was thudding at a sickening rate as I gripped the knife in my right fist. I tried to detach my mind from the horror I was about to uncover, but the feel of blood-soaked denim and Jake's hiss of agony as I made the first cut almost made me pass out. Gritting my teeth, I continued to slice up toward his knee. I knew what a compound fracture was, but seeing the gruesome reality of jagged bone and torn skin was too much. I flung myself to the side, emptying my stomach into the leaves, sobbing and shaking violently.

"I'm so sorry, Jake!" I choked. "I. . . I don't know if I can do this!"

"Bella, I need you. It's going to be okay. Let's just do this quickly before I change my mind."

"Okay, okay, we can do this. You're right. It's going to be okay. We just need to get you to the truck." For the first time ever, I cursed myself for not accepting a cell phone from Renee and Phil.

I forced myself to assess Jake's injuring, pretending I was a nurse or doctor, pretending it wasn't real, wishing that the heavy scent of copper and rust was nothing more than my imagination, not the blood of my best friend seeping into the dirt. With a sobering breath I gently grasped Jake's knee and ankle, trying to determine how hard to pull and twist to realign the fragmented bones and tissue. There was just so much blood!

"Okay, I'm going to count. Jake? Jake!" His breathing was so shallow and he seemed to be drifting away from me. I knew the pain, blood loss and cold were quickly sending him into shock. I had to act now.

Praying that I wouldn't make his injury worse I tightened my grip, pulled and twisted. The grinding, popping noise, the feel of bone scraping on bone, and Jake's pitiful moan made my stomach heave violently. Somehow I forced my body to submit comply as I braced two of the thickest pieces of wood on either side of his shin. Tears were streaming unchecked down Jake's face before I was finished but I was pleased to see that very little blood was soaking through the scarf that I had wound tightly around his calf.

"Jake, please stay with me! You need to wake up!"

He turned his groggy eyes toward me but was so unresponsive that I couldn't imagine him dragging his giant frame the remaining three miles back to the truck.

I rubbed his hands and squeezed his shoulder, trying to bring him back.

"Can you hear me, Jake? We need to move, it's already starting to get dark!" The twilight was creeping into the woods, dimming my vision and chilling me further. Jake responded slowly at first, but the panic in my voice eventually forced him to move.

"Help me stand, Bells. I'm going to have to lean on you," he gasped.

It took several minutes and hundreds of bitter tears to get him to his feet. By that time, there was a perceptible change in the light. It was fading quickly and we were both exhausted. Jake couldn't put any weight on his left leg so we shuffled along at an agonizing crawl. I found a thick branch to aid him as a crutch and between us we were able to travel several hundred feet. That's when we came across another fallen tree and the true reality of our situation hit me. We would never be able to heave Jake's mass over the giant obstacle, and definitely not without causing more trauma.

"Bella, you're going to have to go for help. I can't make it any further. Not like this."

Jakes voice was so low and strained that I had to lean in to hear him. At that moment his walking stick snapped and he tumbled against me with a sharp cry. He was right. We didn't have a choice.

I helped him get settled with his back against an old spruce, tenderly guiding his injured leg until he was sitting against the mossy trunk. I shed my coat and tucked it around his shivering body. At least we had water, some food, a flashlight and a whistle for him to keep with him. Jake pulled a battered map from the bottom of his bag and shakily marked our approximate location.

With a hand on either side of his dirt and tear-stained face I promised to return quickly. I only paused for a moment before pressing my lips to his. Sweat, dirt, tears and snot. . . this was not what I dreamed our first kiss to be. But I could not leave him like this. I was terrified and I knew he was dangerously exposed out here, drenched in blood in an area known for its mountain lions and bears. The knife by his side looked so pitifully small.

"I'll be back with help before you know it. Wait for me. I love you," I sobbed.

His eyes were so dark, so wide and afraid. Jacob really did look his age now, a frightened boy alone in the dark woods. I hated every step that took me away from him. His whispered 'love you. . .' only tore my heart more. I kept my eyes fixed on the overgrown path, running when I could, stumbling and slipping over unseen sticks and rocks every few yards.

* * *

><p><em>The sun was dipping below the trees before I climbed to my feet, leaving Alice and her puzzling visions to Jasper's caring embrace. Rosalie and Emmett were battling one another on a graphic and violent video game. I found Esme and Carlisle sitting quietly together in the kitchen, the tense lines about their faces the only sign that they were not completely relaxed.<em>

_"I have a late shift at the hospital tonight. Call me as soon as Alice is feeling better?" Carlisle murmured to Esme. We both nodded in agreement._

_Carlisle clasped my shoulder firmly as he passed, somehow instilling all of his love, pride and encouragement into that one simple gesture._

Have faith_, he said to me as he left the room. Moments later we all heard the Mercedes start up and leave the garage._

_I pulled Esme into a hug as her face fell. She was unable to take seeing her children in pain. Hiding her fears and worry from everyone took such a toll on her. I was grateful that she could not hide it from me. She shuddered in tearless sobs, finally giving her own feelings a chance to surface._

_"Hunt with me?"_

_"Of course."_

_I held her hand as we slipped across the dimly lit grass and into the cool embrace of the forest._

* * *

><p>Minutes or hours passed, I couldn't really say. The air burned my throat and lungs with every harsh intake of breath. My legs, already fatigued from supporting Jake's weight, grew quickly numb and I fell more frequently. I was losing hope, feeling desperately lost, when I finally broke through the trees and onto the dirt road. My keys were clutched tightly in one hand so that the sharp metal teeth had left deep imprints in my skin. The map I had shoved into my back pocket was torn and stained with dirt.<p>

Climbing into my truck, exhausted as I felt, was the first time I actually allowed myself to hope that everything would be okay. I could be back in La Push within 30 minutes and then Jake's dad, Billy, my father and emergency personnel would be on their way. Jake was going to get the help he needed.

Still frantic, but smiling, I shoved my keys in the ignition and twisted.

Nothing.

_Oh, dear God, oh please don't let this happen! _

I pumped the gas three times and then the clutch. This time the starter hesitated but slowly turned over and the engine spluttered briefly before catching.

_Thank you, thank you!_

I flicked on the headlights, startled by how sinister the woods now appeared. All beauty had been stripped away by the horror of the past two hours. In the reflected light I saw my hands stained to a rusty red by Jacob's blood. I refused to allow the fear to grip me. Throwing the truck into gear, I turned it around, reversing several times to make it around on the narrow dirt track. I drove as fast as I dared, braking hard when the turns came at me too quickly. Time dragged too slowly despite my near-hysterical state. The woods encroached on the road so closely it felt like the trees themselves were trying to trap me. I had just reached the main highway when the moon broke through the heavy clouds. I didn't know there was a full moon tonight. Its silvery glow was not beautiful – it was eerie, setting the tree branches in sharp relief against the charcoal sky. They waved their skeletal arms over my head and I shrunk against my seat.

I pressed the gas pedal to the floor, cursing my decrepit truck and its geriatric pace. A startling choking sound and a sponginess in the gas pedal made my heart skip. The engine surged and accelerated before gasping and sputtering feebly. When it died altogether I burst into tears and shrieked at the night, cursing and pounding the steering wheel in hopeless rage. I pumped the pedals and turned the key repeatedly, but nothing happened. With the last creeping roll, I pulled over to the shoulder, cringing away from the forbidding darkness of the woods.

"Jake, I'm so sorry. . ." I whispered into the night.

I wanted to give up, to curl into a ball and cry, to squeeze my eyes shut against the nightmare of tonight and wait for morning to shed light on this whole terrible mess. Somehow I managed to pull myself together. Imagining Jake, bleeding and alone in the woods, gave me the strength to keep going. I pocketed my useless keys and the map, slammed the door of my traitorous truck and set out at a clumsy run along the moonlit road. It was only a matter of time until a car came along and I could flag it down.

_Only a matter of time._

I counted my steps.

I counted the yellow hash-marks down the center of the road.

I counted my breaths, wishing that they didn't sound so strained, pressing desperately through the pain in my side and the blister on my right heel.

I avoided looking into the depths of the darkness that framed my vision.

Occasionally a cloud would hide the moon and I stumbled forward using the faint white line to guide me. Still, no cars came and I ran stubbornly on.

I tried to sing nursery rhymes in my head, staving off my misery with memories of brightness and childhood innocence. The charm did not last more than 100 paces.

The sounds of the nighttime forest pursued me, branches creaking, twigs snapping. Several times I felt as if eyes were following me and a flicker of movement teased my peripheral vision. I refused to look, staring doggedly ahead.

I cannot pin-point the exact moment when I realized what I was sensing was more than just a manifestation of my fears. I don't know at what moment I realized I was being stalked from the shadows. But my heart began to race and my steps quickened of their own accord. Adrenaline masked the pain in my legs, lungs and arms giving me inhuman strength and speed.

Unfortunately, my stalker. . . stalkers. . . were not human and my flight was useless.

The moon revealed itself again, shedding ghostly light across the entire landscape. I tripped and fell in shock when I finally registered what stood in my path.

Human in form and size, they straggled from the trees, rambling onto the road in singles and pairs. I spun around when I heard dragging, shuffling steps behind me. I was surrounded. Fifteen, twenty, I couldn't count. Their moans and rattling breaths crept spider-like up my spine. I wanted to scream, but my voice was frozen in absolute terror.

The smell, the stench of rotten flesh, maggots, mold, corruption. . . it clawed its way up my body, into my nose and mouth, gagging me.

The circle of death closed inexorably around me. I couldn't run. I tried to scream.

The hoarse, weak cry that rose from my lips was pitiful. The zombies didn't flinch or pause in their approach. When the first rotten claw seized my shoulder I finally found my voice. I screamed and swung out at the monsters, horrified by the empty eyes that focused on me but through me. Bone and ragged strands of skin and hair, tattered, rotten shreds of cloth, and always that overwhelming odor of hell's own children. I screamed louder when the first blackened, jagged teeth tore into my flesh. I hit and kicked, fighting for my life, fighting for Jacob, but finally acknowledging the truth.

_I was going to die. I had failed._

No sooner had my final hope flown when a sudden flash of light and the hum of an engine pushed to its highest speed halted the monsters in their feast on living flesh.

Tires screeched and an animalistic roar sent the undead fleeing into the trees. My body, torn and bleeding from a hundred bites and scratches fell to the ground. I heard rather than felt the impact as my skull cracked against the pavement.

Iron bars caged me, lifting me up. The sweetest scent enveloped me, washing away the fetid stink. A musical voice filled my ears, broken by anguished sobs but pure and clear in its tone and timbre. I forced my eyes open to see the glowing countenance and amber eyes of Edward Cullen. I tried to smile, to greet him. He looked like an angel, or a god sent down to earth. His words did not register. Gradually the vision of my savior faded into black.

* * *

><p><em>I was unable to sit quietly in the confines of our house. I had hunted with Esme but the thin blood of the two deer I slaughtered did little to settle my thirst or my surging emotions. First, I had run into Bella at the gas station, dredging up all of the confusing urges, emotions and instincts that came with one glance of her soulful brown eyes. Then, Alice had been struck by this disturbing array of broken futures. I found myself pacing, avoiding Rosalie's glares and Alice's haunted glances until past 8 o'clock.<em>

_Jasper eyed me with pity, then frustration, and finally annoyance until I strode from the house with my keys in my hand. Alice raced after me and caught me before I reached my car._

_"Edward, please don't go far tonight. I don't know why, but I have a feeling that you need to stay close. Tonight of all nights, I need to know you're here."_

_I was unable to respond with any assurance. Instead, I searched her face and her thoughts for the reason behind her plea, but all I could gather was the vague sense of unease and foreboding that she had been feeling all day. Search as I tried, there was nothing more to see. But, the desperation in my sister's eyes was enough for me. I knew better than to doubt her instincts._

_"I won't go far. I just need some space to think."_

_"I wish you would just speak to her. Edward, I've seen her in our future. How long are you going to deny your fate?"_

When had Bella become a part of today's discussion?

_"My fate is not one that I would share with anyone willingly, least of all her. Please, I just need some space. I'll return before midnight."_

_The moment the words left my mouth, Alice staggered under a quick sequence of images; a flash of blood splattered leaves, a decaying hand, and a sneakered foot pounding on moonlit pavement._

_"Midnight. . ." she whispered fearfully._

_"I won't go far. . ."_

_I angled into my car, shut the door firmly, and drove quickly down the narrow lane to the highway. _

_I left the town behind me and with it the cheerful voices and thoughts of trick-or-treaters and Halloween parties. With a full tank of gas I raced along the empty, winding streets. As darkness fell I pushed the pedal closer and closer to the floor until I was no longer in complete control. I was testing and challenging every mechanical limit of my car tonight. _

_My thoughts returned to Bella, my greatest curse, but my hope and my humanity. In her I saw all that my life could have held if I had only remained human. My throat tightened with grief for my loss, but I quickly crushed the self-pity, disgusted with myself for indulging in the useless emotion._

_Sickened and alone, I flung my car down a narrow side street and jerked to a halt. I buried my face in my hands, digging my fingers into my forehead and temples, trying to regain the semblance of calm and control I had before Isabella Marie Swan entered my life. It was hopeless. I should have moved far away immediately, but my pride forced me to stay. And now? I could no longer bear the thought of being away from her innocent blushes and pure, floral scent._

_With a dejected sigh I climbed out of my vehicle and wandered aimlessly into the woods. I trailed my fingertips through the leaves as I walked, fascinated by the varying textures, distracting myself from my mental wandering. I crushed a handful of pine needles and brought them to my face, inhaling the resinous scent._

_I gagged and staggered at the cloying scent that wafted into my nose. Pestilence and decay and evil. The crushed pine needles fell from my hands unheeded. I stretched my senses to their capacity searching for scents and sounds, voices or thoughts. Far to the south I heard a high-pitched shriek, and with it came the dark images and tortured thoughts of two dozen damned souls. I knew that voice, I recognized that heartbeat. . . Most terrifying of all, I smelled her blood. The siren's call was powerful, but it paled in comparison to the fierce need to find and rescue her from the vile creatures that had captured her._

_Gears ground as I threw my car into reverse and tore back out onto the highway. I raced toward the point where I heard her cry, terrified of what I would see. I spun around a corner, my rear wheels drifting out, barely staying on the pavement._

_I wrenched up the handbrake, snapping the lever in my panic. Before me, bathed in the sickly glow of the full moon, a crowd of zombies, creatures born from the darkest nightmares, were clustered around the source of my warmth and hope and all that I loved._

_I flew from the car with a roar of outrage and pain. The creatures scattered like the carrion that they were, driven back to their secret haunts and shallow graves by the only predator that could shred them effortlessly._

_I didn't pause to strike or pursue a single one. Everything that I was, every part of me was drawn to the shattered body of the girl I loved. I gathered her to me, her honey-sweet blood pouring from dozens of slashes and bites. Her lower lip was torn, her shoulder mangled with bone and sinew exposed to the air. All of the flesh from her left thigh had been torn away and blood pumped furiously from the severed veins and arteries. _

_Sobbing, I cried her name, confessing my devotion, my love and admiration. I apologized in broken, hurried tones for never speaking to her, never seeking out her beautiful, intelligent, spirited mind. My fear and pride had cost me the only the shred of hope and humanity that I had in this world. As her heart slowed and her eyes dimmed I saw my own death closing in. In this moment, I knew that I lived for this woman; this broken, bleeding, human child. She was my life, my soul, my sun in the midst of this midnight existence. Her lips curved up into a tremulous smile before her eyes closed._

_"No!" I screamed._

_Without another thought, I sunk my teeth into her already battered flesh. I drenched her gaping wounds in my venom, sealing her remaining blood within her before sinking to the ground with her bloodied body in a fierce embrace. Her heart continued to slow, the gentle thud quieting and pausing. I was terrified when I realized I was probably too late. The miraculous healing properties of vampire venom were obsolete if they did not reach the heart._

_And then, a tremor ran through her body and the weakened heart began to race. I hurried to close the rest of her wounds, oblivious to the taste of her on my tongue, focused solely on saving her. It wasn't until her frame arced and twisted in my arms that I considered the folly of my rash decision. Her screams of pain and terror in the hands of the zombie horde were nothing compared to the strangled cries of intense agony that ripped through her throat. Sobbing in guilt and sorrow I clutched her to me, dragging us back to the car. Bella was oblivious to her surroundings as I sped away from my family, my home, everything I owned, with the broken, pain-wracked body of the woman I loved. I just prayed she would forgive me when she finally woke._

* * *

><p>Richard Evanson drained the last of his luke-warm coffee and rubbed his gritty eyes with the heel of his hand. Only half an hour and he would be home. Chrissy probably left some dinner in the microwave for him. Food would be really good about now.<p>

He stifled a yawn and cranked up the radio, singing along to Brad Paisley and wishing he had pursued music instead of driving a big rig up and down the coast for a living. The I-5 corridor had only gotten more congested, gas prices were intolerable, and nobody wanted to pay the truckers a fair wage any more. He cursed cheap imports under his breath before going back to singing the refrain slightly off key.

He had two days to rest, relax and play with the kids before picking up another load of cargo from the Port of Tacoma on Tuesday morning. Richard hummed to fill the gaps in the lyrics he didn't know, and swung carefully across the double yellow line to give a wide berth to an old abandoned truck on the shoulder.

A little over five miles later something white reflected light from his headlights in the other lane. Curiosity caused him to down shift and brake carefully. He engaged the emergency brake but left the big diesel engine running as he climbed down from the cab. He immediately recognized the object to be a shoe, nothing really odd about that. But the white sneaker was drenched in blood and he looked down to see a thick pool of congealing liquid around his feet.

Backpedalling in shock, he grabbed his CB and sent out a mayday call, alerting anyone listening to his discovery. He grabbed his cell phone, thankful that he had kept it charged, and dialed 911.

"911, please state your emergency and your location," the operator rambled in a bored tone.

"Yes, I was driving along the 101 and I saw a shoe in the road. It's covered in blood, there's blood everywhere. I think the cops need to get out her and see this right away."

The operator snapped to attention and asked him a barrage of questions before requesting that he remain at his present location and wait for the police to arrive.

Richard wrung his hands and murmured a few prayers for whoever had been injured tonight. He tried sitting in the cab of the truck, but the anxiety of staying still was driving him mad. He hopped down from the truck again and began to pace, carefully avoiding the pools of blood drying around him. He paused to run his hands through his coarse brown hair, glancing around the dark tree-line for the first time. He gulped thickly when he saw something white fluttering in the light breeze.

"Don't be silly. It's just paper," he muttered to himself. To prove it to himself and just to do _something_, he stalked over to the ditch and snatched up the folded paper. He opened it up to reveal a topographical map of the area, something commonly used by hikers and campers. What chilled him to the bone were the bloody fingerprints smeared across the battered page, and the stench of death that clung to it.

He dropped it hastily, scrubbing his hands vigorously on his thighs and backing away until her was pressed up against the vibrating, rumbling frame of the truck. There he stood until he finally saw the flash of blue and white in the distance 12 minutes later.

The police car pulled to a stop in front of the big rig, but with its headlights shining into the woods. A tall man with dark, curly brown hair and a thick mustache climbed out of the driver's seat and walked toward him with his hand hovering cautiously over his weapon.

"Are you Richard Evanson?"

"Yes, sir. I was driving home when I noticed something white lying in the road. I pulled up and saw it was a shoe. That's when I noticed all the blood and called you guys. It sure looks like something bad happened out here. It's real creepy, that's for sure."

"I'm Chief Swan," he held his hand out for a brisk hand shake then continued, "Did you see anyone else as you were driving or notice anything suspicious?"

Richard shuffled his feet uncomfortable, quickly realizing that his wandering and meddling could have contaminated a crime scene. He decided to just tell the Chief everything and let them decide what was important.

"Well, after I placed the 911 call I was wanderin' around a bit and I saw a piece of paper flapping around a bit. I was curious and picked it up. It looked like it had blood on it, too. It was a map, you know? I kind of dropped it and ran back over to my truck. Maybe it's nothing, but it kind of freaked me out." Richard indicated the map lying on the roadside and shoved his hands back in his pockets nervously.

Another police car was pulling up with an ambulance close behind. Chief Swan spoke quickly into his radio before walking over to the paper and looking down at it thoughtfully. He scribbled a few notes on his pad and began walking around the area in a gradually expanding circle.

"Is there anything else that you noticed out of the ordinary this evening? Any other motorists or pedestrians along the road tonight?" Chief Swan glanced up at the trucker every so often, evaluating his body language and facial expressions.

Richard rubbed his jaw thoughtfully and shrugged. "Apart from an old abandoned pick-up a few miles back, I didn't see nobody else for a long time."

"Could you describe the vehicle for me?"

"Sure can. It was real old, like 1960's I guess, and that rusty color that can't tell if it wants to be red or orange. . ." He paused mid-sentence when he heard the Chief make a choking sound. The man's face was white as a sheet and his eyes were bulging with horror.

"Mark. . ." he gasped. "Mark!" he yelled more clearly. "I think it's Bella. . . she was hiking with Jacob earlier today and I haven't been home, I gotta call Billy!"

The other cop rushed to the chief's side as he staggered and almost fell. They both zeroed in on the desolate scene of a single white sneaker, abandoned in a pool of sticky blood. A blank mask settled over the distraught father's face and he robotically started barking out orders to his deputy and the EMT's.

Richard resigned himself to a long night without that hot dinner he had been looking forward to. Instead, he dug out an almost-empty package of stale powdered donuts from the glove box and sat down on the running boards to watch the flurry of activity, lit by the flashing strobes and the quiet, watchful moon. Minutes slipped by and Halloween passed into All Souls' Day. He offered up a simple prayer for the girl who he presumed to be dead, feeling vaguely guilty that he hadn't driven faster or started his day earlier. Who knows? Maybe he would have been able to help her. But, then again, who can really guess what cards fate will deal?

* * *

><p>As the hours passed, Jake slipped in and out of consciousness, opening his eyes long enough to confirm that Bella had not yet returned before escaping from the pain back into darkness and silence. At one point, he thought he heard voices and brief flashes of light, but his eyelids were too heavy and his ears were cloaked in cotton. . . Mercifully, he did not wake when they lifted his drained body, or when they reset his shattered leg. The medical team pumped his body full of antibiotics and two units of blood working quickly to repair the damage on bone and soft tissue.<p>

The blond-haired surgeon wrinkled his forehead in confusion as he monitored his patient. Bone and muscle were knitting quickly, too quickly. And his patient's temperature was rising rapidly but without any other sign or symptom of infection.

He made his diagnosis and placed a phone call. And then waited.

Less than an hour passed before a harsh, pungent smell heralded the arrival of his visitors. Sam Uley towered over the older man in the wheel chair. They entered the private room and shut the door behind them. Sam, with burly arms crossed, remained standing, leaning against the door and evaluating the man before him.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen paused, formulating his words before speaking. Finally he raised his amber eyes to address the two hard-faced men.

"Mr. Black, Mr. Uley, thank you for meeting me here. Jacob is going to be okay. In fact, he is healing at a phenomenal rate.

Neither man looks surprised, although Billy Black's eyes flickered to his son's unconscious face before returning to the doctor's.

"Chief Swan is asking for all of our help to find his daughter. I think we should do everything in a power. Together. Something terrible happened tonight and a girl is missing, possibly de. . ."

His phone rang, cutting him off mid-word.

"Excuse me," he murmured when he saw who was calling.

Sam leaned forward slightly, hoping to hear some of what was said, but the caller spoke quickly and quietly before hanging up. Another vampire, then. Probably one of this one's own coven. He gritted his teeth but forced himself to remain calm.

The doctor raised his eyebrow casually at the vibrations emanating from the large man's frame before continuing.

"It seems we have a mutual enemy. I do not know if our present treaty will allow us to address the concerns that this will bring. Perhaps we can meet to negotiate new terms. . ."

"There will be no negotiations," Sam hissed before Billy raised a hand to silence him.

"A new enemy? And what would this be?"

"Zombies. . ." Carlisle replied quietly. The boy in the hospital bed shifted restlessly.

The two Native American men traded a heavy glance before nodding. A date and time was set.

Jacob Black didn't awaken for three long days. When he did, he opened his eyes to a different world. A world where vampires and werewolves hunted side by side battling against an ancient, malicious presence in the deepest woods. A darker world. A world without Bella Swan.

* * *

><p><em>Three days later. . .<em>

137 miles away in a secluded cabin, a bronze-haired young man embraced a waif-like girl. With a hesitant glance over her shoulder, she flitted into the trees, flying north to rejoin the rest of her family. Perhaps she would see him again soon, perhaps it would be several years. . . but she was not leaving him alone. Her visions had returned with remarkable clarity. She knew he would never be alone again.

The young man turned back to the auburn-haired beauty who lay on the tiny bed behind him. All evidence of her injuries had vanished. He skin glowed with a milky light. Her hair was lustrous and thick. His sister had washed away the traces of death and decay that clung to her transformed body and dressed her in a simple blue dress. The cotton fabric wrapped around her figure, outlining the curves of her body in soft midnight folds.

The air was filled with a humming sound, the thrumming, frantic race of a heart sprinting toward its final beat. He stepped forward hesitantly, fearful at first but also filled with hope. He searched for the guilt he knew should be there, but there was nothing within him now but a deep need to touch her, to look into her crimson eyes and see himself reflected within them.

As the final rays of the setting sun shone through the open door, that is exactly what happened.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I have a few more ideas for stories, but I welcome any and all prompts. Of course, there's no guarantee than it will resonate with me, or that you'll like the end result if it does._


	5. RIP Edward Cullen (T)

**"RIP Edward Cullen"**

**Universe: AH**

**Rating: T**

**Characters: Jessica, Edward**

**Genre: Humor. At least I think so. It's a bid morbid. . . so Dark Humor?**

**Summary: Jessica has loved Senator Edward Cullen for years. And she believes he loves her, too. It's a secret she plans to take to the grave. . . . His grave.**

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. Duh.

* * *

><p><em>Jessica's POV<em>

I need to know. I just. . . I just need to know. Closed casket? Who decided that? Why? What are they hiding? I deserve to know. They have no business hiding the truth. He owes me that much.

My back hurts. I'm not used to this. And this shovel is just too, too small. I wish I had the key to the excavator. It would be so much faster. But loud. Way too loud. Damn it. I can barely reach now. Where do I put all this dirt? It's getting almost impossible to dig deeper. And why did they have to pack it down so hard? They just made my job harder.

I need to get down there. I don't know how I'll get back out, but does it really matter? As long as I know, I'll find a way. I'll be okay.

Whoa, it's cold down here. I didn't expect it to be so cold and damp. I was sweating at the funeral. I couldn't stop sweating. Other people were uncomfortable too. I could tell. Nobody could stand still. Not even the minister was comfortable. He kept looking at me strangely. Maybe he wanted to see inside, too. I should have asked him. He probably would have helped me. Or asked them to leave the tent up. It would have been nice to have some privacy out here. The trees are droopy and stand too close.

And now there's thunder. It would decide to rain right now. After all, it always rains at the most inconvenient times. It rained on picture day my senior year. Can you imagine? I spent so much time getting my hair to lay flat and straight and then it rained. Who wants to look like a poodle in their year book picture? I sure didn't. But rain does that. It just crashes the party uninvited and ruins everything.

My back is freezing. This feels more like snow than rain. And my shoes are getting ruined. Shit. He would probably laugh if he could see me now. He'd laugh with his emerald eyes squeezed shut and his mouth wide open. I would be blinded by his perfect white teeth. Perfect except for that one molar capped with silver. It actually made him look more distinguished. I would all be worth it to hear him laugh again. I always did like that sound. I recorded it once. He was telling a joke at a party and I stood very close so I could catch it. I got to listen to his laugh whenever I liked. It was muffled by my coat and too many other people were talking, but it was definitely his laugh. After a few days, I deleted the rest of the recording and just kept his laugh. I hated waiting for it. I just wanted to get to the point. I'm efficient like that.

This shovel isn't efficient at all. This is taking forever. And now my hands are bleeding. Damn it. Nothing is going right. All he had to do was leave the lid open and it would have saved me a lot of trouble. I could be at home eating soup in front of the TV. He wasn't ever considerate of my needs, though. But that's how love is, right? You have to be selfless when you love someone. He just loved the kids more than me. And that meant he had to be inconsiderate. He was consistent. Consistently inconsiderate. I like the way that sounds. I bet if I said it out loud, people would have to stop and think about it. They would get stuck and get that funny blank look on their face. People do that a lot when I speak because they're just too slow. He never did. But he was really, really smart. He was a MENSA like me. I don't know if he ever tried to join, but if he did he would have definitely been accepted. He was that smart.

Oh! There it is. I can't believe I dug this deep. I doubt they really buried him six feet down. That's pretty deep and I could tell they were lazy. I watched them dig the hole and they kept taking breaks to look at me and talk to each other. They acted is if it was their first day on the job. I asked to speak to their supervisor but the big one said he was the supervisor and made me leave. They probably stopped digging as soon as I was gone.

This mud is way too heavy. That last shovelful fell right back in. I'm too tired to throw out any more. I need to get this open. Damn. I left my bag up there. Now I'll have to climb out and then back in again. This coffin is pretty solid. It holds my weight easily. Solid and strong like him. I should be able to just slip back in like those slides at the water park, only this is a mud slide. I laugh at my own joke. He would have laughed too but I didn't say it out loud. Maybe I'm too possessive. I don't usually share my jokes. People stare and roll their eyes too much, anyway. They wouldn't get why I was laughing. Not unless they were as smart as he was. Then they might.

I think my clothes are going into the garbage after this. And I'm way too muddy to ride the bus home. I have to walk anyway if I want to keep my new shovel. After all, they didn't let me bring my other shovel and that one was still clean. I had to buy this one down the street. The pimply boy at the check stand asked me what I needed a shovel for. I told him I needed it to dig a hole. It was a pretty stupid question, but I try to be polite and answer everyone, even if they don't make a lot of sense.

Finally, back in the hole. His hole. The hole that I dug. Ha! I dug his grave for him! Which is silly, of course, because he's already in it. But it is quite an accomplishment all the same. Not many people could dig a hole this deep and wide. And not everyone knows how to use a cordless drill. I have to be extra careful. I need to cut through the wood without hitting him.

Actually, that wasn't very hard at all. My hands slipped a bit because of all the mud and they're still bleeding, but I doubt it went all the way through the padding. Now I can use my saw for the rest. I planned it all perfectly. I've always been good at making plans.

He really stinks. I wasn't expecting that. He always used to smell so good. Maybe that's why they closed the casket. His wife was always talking about organic this and natural that. Isabella Cullen, the perfectly dressed, gorgeous, energy conscious, tree hugging senator's wife. I heard him complaining about it once. I think she was so selfish. She probably didn't even have him embalmed. Who skips that these days? It really doesn't make sense. But then, nothing she does ever makes sense. He was stupid to marry her. He was smart with everything else, but just plain stupid about her. I tried to tell him but he never listened. And now he's lying here stinking because she thought it would save a baby seal to let him rot faster. See what I mean? She's completely illogical.

That really is a nice suit. I bet that's the nicest suit he owned. The fabric is shiny, even though it's really dark down here. I pull out my flashlight to see him better. He's not as handsome now. With his skin so gray and his eyes and lips sewn shut, he looks ghoulish. Even so, I can tell it's him by the scar above his left eye. He never told me how he got it, even though I asked six times. I stopped asking after a while because I realized he must be embarrassed by the story. I used to play a game. Every time I saw his picture in a magazine or a newspaper or on the television I would try to find his scar. Sometimes it was covered up by make-up if he was doing an interview. Sometimes, I could tell that they put the picture backwards because it was on the wrong side. They have no attention to detail. They shouldn't be called journalists. They're sloppy, just like the grave diggers.

I've looked everywhere and I just can't find it. I know he didn't put himself in here so maybe it's not his fault. But he did promise. I remember it clearly. I'm glad I brought my copy. I wedge the picture under his folded hands. Actually, I don't like that. His hands are folded over his stomach. I think it's more appropriate to put it under his lapel, next to his heart. I always slept with it by my heart so my idea has a beautiful symmetry to it. It's artistic.

I lean back against the muddy walls and survey my work. The coffin lid is a mess, but that's okay. He is lying quietly on white satin with the photo of us embracing in front of a brick building laid above his resting heart. I can't remember the name of the building. There were so many people and cameras but we were able to steal a quick moment together before everyone got too crazy. I will always remember the look of joy and surprise on his face when I hugged him. I had waited so long that I just couldn't contain myself. And that perfect moment was captured forever by one of the news cameras. I couldn't have planned it better myself and I'm really good at planning.

I had to wait almost two weeks before I was able to slip him his copy. I made him promise not to tell anyone about our love affair. I asked him to keep the photo a secret. It would have torn his world apart and I couldn't do that to him. He swore he would take it to his grave with him, but here I find that he didn't. But it's okay now. I fixed it. I've always looked out for him when he couldn't. I know he appreciated it. He couldn't tell me, but I could see it in his eyes.

I'm too tired to put all this dirt back in. Those slobs with the excavator can do it in the morning. They could use a day of honest labor. I need to get home and clean up. I must look awful. I was always so careful about how I looked if I thought he might see me. Oh, well. I guess that doesn't really matter anymore.

Good bye now, Edward. I'll miss you, too.

* * *

><p><em>Edward Cullen in love with you. . . what a beautiful delusion.<em>


	6. Monster (T)

**"Monster"**

**Universe: Canon**

**Rating: T (For Violence/Gore/Sensuality)**

**Characters: James, Victoria, Laurent, Edward, Alice**

**Genre: Horror**

**Summary: Three co-eds are heading back from spring break when they see a stranded motorist. They never should have stopped to help.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, and neither do you. Join me for a pity party. :(_

* * *

><p>"Pull over. It's my turn to drive."<p>

"Chill out, Lucy. I have to get gas at the next exit. We'll switch drivers then. Just remember, if you crash my car, my dad is never going to let us do anything like this again!"

"And if he saw the way you were slutting it up this week, he would never let you out of the house again. At least, not until you're thirty." Lucy added the last remark with a sly smirk.

"Ugh. You're so right. That's the worst thing about living at home."

"You mean apart from the pre-folded laundry, free cable and home-cooked meals?" Ella spoke up from the back seat.

"Okay, you've got a point," Meghan agreed with a sigh. "But it would still be nice if they stopped treating me like a child. I'm 20 years old!"

"And you proved that last night. Oh my gosh, what was up with that guy? He was so old!"

"He was 32. And I thought he was hot." Meghan wasn't offended. She was proud of her conquest. And he had known _exactly_ what to do to make her last day of spring break unforgettable. "Didn't you think he was good looking?" Meghan asked Ella, catching her friend's eyes in the rear view mirror.

"Sure. He was nice." Ella shrugged and went back to reading on her Kindle. She had fun at the clubs and parties they had crashed, but the highlights of the trip to San Francisco were the tourist stops they made. She hadn't been to San Francisco since she was a little kid and had been enchanted by the exhibits at the wax museum and the attractions at Fisherman's Wharf.

Meghan and Lucy were more outgoing and, while they found the sight-seeing interesting, didn't really get excited until they had their clubbing clothes on and their make-up done. Meghan was free-spirited. She lived for the rush of a new fling or an adrenaline surge. She was an avid skier, mountain biker and surfer. Lucy was a serial monogamist. When her boyfriend since last Thanksgiving cheated on her, she jumped at the chance to clear her head by taking a road trip with her two best friends. Now, heading back to Portland, she was dreading seeing Trevor with his new girlfriend. What she really wanted was to snag a hot grad student. That would rub Trevor's face in it. He had dropped out of college after his first quarter because his grades were too low to maintain his scholarship.

"Where are we anyway?"

"Um, the GPS says we're 15 miles south of Brookings. So we're almost into Oregon."

"Didn't the drive down take a lot less time?" Lucy asked while flipping through the photos she planned to load to Facebook as soon as her reception improved.

"I'm not the one who wanted to take Highway 101," replied Meghan with an exasperated sigh.

Ella broke in before the conversation could escalate into an argument. "I think it's beautiful. The coast towns are so neat. And we got to eat lunch at that cute diner in Eureka."

"You're right. But we aren't going to make it home before lunch time tomorrow. We should stop in Coos Bay for the night. It's big enough that we should have no problem finding a hotel."

"That works for me. I still have a bit of money left," Lucy shrugged. The bars on her phone leapt up as they rounded another promontory and she started posting their trip photos to her spring break album. She wasn't even finished before their friends who had stayed in Portland for break were posting comments. She read the funnier ones out loud and they were all laughing when they pulled into the gas station 12 minutes later.

Ella pumped the gas while the other two went into the convenience store to buy snacks. She would have rather bought real food, but none of them wanted to waste any time at a sit down restaurant. When Lucy and Meghan climbed back into the car, she ran inside to use the restroom and buy an apple. She needed something healthy to offset the bags of chips and candy the others picked out.

Meghan sat in the middle of the rear seat while Lucy drove and Ella took shotgun. Lucy plugged in her iPod and flipped to the playlist she loved to work out to. Ella rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling as Meghan launched into a perfect imitation of Nicki Minaj. The miles flew by and the sun crept lower in the sky. They were still more than an hour away from Coos Bay when the sun set over the Pacific Ocean casting the landscape in shadows of gray, blue and mauve. Traffic was light to begin with, but now they only passed cars going the opposite direction every couple minutes.

It was full dark when they passed the disabled vehicle. "Oh, shit. That jeep has a flat tire," Lucy exclaimed.

"That's a Land Cruiser, not a Jeep."

"Whatever. It looked expensive. Talk about suck."

"Wait! Slow down. There's someone walking up there!" Meghan was pointing over Ella's shoulder and Lucy obliged by slowing down.

"No. Don't stop," said Ella. "Let's just call AAA or the highway patrol and let them know someone needs a ride."

"There's no reception out here. We're miles from the nearest town. We can leave the doors locked and just roll down the window an inch. Don't be so uptight. None of _us_ would want to walk miles for help at night."

Ella bit her lip but didn't say anything else as Lucy braked and pulled over. The stranded driver shaded his eyes from the headlights and stood back on the shoulder. Lucy cut the lights and rolled down the window two inches.

"Hey, is that your car back there?"

"Yeah. I must have run over a nail or something and my spare is flat, too." The stranger stepped closer and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was dressed in faded jeans, a white t-shirt and a worn leather jacket. His dark blond hair was pulled into a pony tail.

All three girls found themselves to be speechless. His voice was a baritone, pitched low and mellow. Ella immediately imagined him perched on a bar stool holding a guitar and humming a melancholy song. Lucy was picturing Trevor's response if she showed up at the restaurant he worked at with a guy as hot and intimidating as this man. Meghan's heart was racing with adrenaline. Whoever this guy was, he moved with the lithe steps and barely contained strength of a powerful athlete. She licked her lips. His head turned fractionally and she could feel his eyes on her mouth. She licked her lips again, slower this time. Even in the dim light of the shadowed moon she could see him smile.

"Wow. I think every one of my fantasies just came true. And I thought this night was going to be terrible. Do I really have three gorgeous rescuers?" He stepped up and rested his forearm against the roof of the sedan. Ella felt her senses slow and she wondered woozily how this man was affecting her so deeply. She rarely looked twice at a guy and he was already making her faint.

Lucy giggled, "You don't look like you need any help. You look like you could take care of yourself. What's your name anyway?"

"James. I have to say, it's an awfully cold and lonely fate to have to walk seven miles along the 101 without anyone to talk to. And my cell phone isn't working out here or else I would have called my roommate to come and get me."

"Roommate? Is he as hot as you?" Meghan asked.

"Laurent? I guess so, if you're into that European intellectual kind of thing."

Ella looked over at Lucy and then to Meghan who was leaning over her left shoulder with her eyes and mouth wide open. They both seemed as dazed as she felt. In the back of her befogged mind she registered an alarm signal. Something wasn't quite right here. A flash of light reflected in the rear view mirror caught her eye. Another car was coming.

James glanced back at the approaching car. "Maybe I should keep walking. This car might be able to give me a ride. I don't want to inconvenience you ladies."

"What? No!" Lucy objected vehemently. "Hop in the back seat. We would love to help you out!" She unlocked the car doors and James didn't hesitate to climb into the car. Meghan scooted over to the left marginally, but didn't put her seat belt back on. She was inexplicably drawn to the handsome stranger.

"Thanks so much. Brrr. It was cold out there." He rubbed his hands together theatrically and settled into his seat with a sigh.

"So how far were you going?"

"My friend Laurent and I have a house a few miles from here. Just keep on going up the 101 and I'll tell you where to turn. I can't tell you how glad I am you stopped. You have to let me make it up to you. Are you guys driving far tonight or do you have an hour or so to stop for drinks and a light dinner? I'm starving. I haven't had a drink in more than a week."

Lucy and Meghan traded glances. Ella was starting to shake her head no, but she was too slow.

"That sounds like fun," Lucy gushed. "We didn't stop for dinner so all we've had for the last five hours is junk food."

"Yeah," agreed Meghan. "It sounded like a good idea, but when you mentioned dinner just now my stomach reacted immediately."

"Perfect," James practically hummed. "So where are you ladies headed?"

"We're staying the night in Coos Bay and driving the rest of the way to Portland in the morning." Ella cringed internally. The other two were offering up information so easily. She wished she had her purse close by but it was on the floor in the back, probably under James' feet. Her pepper spray was out of reach. She looked out the window but the reflection of the car interior made her jump. James' face was pale and as gorgeous as an avenging angel, but his eyes in the mirrored surface of the window were curiously flat and black. She felt the first real tendrils of fear snaking their way through her insides.

Meghan was giggling and teasing James about living so far from civilization. "How do you find any women this far away from the city?"

"I don't usually have much luck, but today I found three. Or rather, they found me."

"But what about your roommate?"

"Fine, I guess we'll have to share. But I get first pick. Bonus for the finder. I think I'll choose you."

Meghan squealed and giggled, completely enthralled by him. He looked and smelled good enough to eat. He smirked in response when her eyes roamed suggestively over his crotch. He curled his tongue at her, running the tip back and forth across his perfectly even white teeth. His nostrils flared slightly, as if he could scent her growing excitement. She was struggling to breathe evenly.

James didn't take his eyes off of Meghan when he alerted Lucy to the upcoming turn off. She slowed and turned right carefully onto the narrow road. "Oooh, this is such a beautiful driveway. How long have you lived here?"

"Actually, this house was built originally as a vacation home for some rich executive from California. We acquired it recently. It's nice to get away from the city and enjoy the open countryside."

The girls oohed and ahhed when the house came into view. It was two stories with a cedar shingle roof and rough cut timber framing. It looked like a country home from a magazine cover complete with landscape lighting and gravel paths that wound through the front and side yards. The facade was mostly windows and two people were visible talking in the front room.

"Oh, I forgot to mention that. Our friend Victoria is staying with us."

"So we have to share you and Laurent with another woman?" Meghan was getting bolder with her teasing. Lucy giggled, flinging her long black hair over her shoulder as she climbed out from behind the wheel. Ella followed more slowly. She felt a bit more comfortable knowing there would be another woman with them. Even so, she would feel a lot better once they were back on the road with miles between them and the seductive stranger.

"Aw, don't be like that, sugar. Besides, Victoria loves the taste of a beautiful woman as much as I do." He gave them an exaggerated wink and ushered Meghan before him up the front path. Lucy was right behind them but Ella held back, thinking of the pepper spray in her purse in the back seat of the car.

"I'll be right in, I forgot my purse in the car," she called, but Lucy and Meghan barely broke stride. James opened the door for them and they were met with a wave of sound, heavy rock beats setting their hearts thumping in a synchronized cadence. Ella found her purse shoved part way under the front passenger seat. Her hand closed tightly over the small canister and she felt a thousand times better. At least she wouldn't be helpless if something sinister was brewing.

She jogged up the path, pushed through the partly open front door and froze in horror. She could now put a name to the dread suspicion that had been curling in her gut since they first saw James. He moved and looked like a predator. And they were his prey. Lured in, trapped and brought here for the slaughter.

In the center of the recessed living room, James was holding Meghan with her arms pinioned behind her back and his hand sealing off her mouth and nose. Her eyes were bulging and her face was turning dark red with her need to breathe and scream out her terror. James' eyes caught Ella's gaze and she felt frozen in time, unable to move or react in any way. He returned his attention casually to the scene on the floor at his feet. Lucy was sprawled on her back, her hair strewn out like an ebony fan across the ivory carpet. She was caged in by another body, hovering in a feline stretch, whose riotous red hair contrasted starkly with the unnatural white of Lucy's face. Lucy's mouth was stretched in a silent scream as the red-haired demon sucked hungrily from the gash in her throat.

Ella shook her head in denial. This was a nightmare. She was imagining a scene from a horror film but soon she would wake up. Her fingers clutched at the pepper spray and she pulled it from her purse. She took a halting step forward. She could stop James, release Meghan and they could make a run for the car. They could get help.

An ice cold hand, rigid as iron, closed over her upper arm. "No, no, no, my sweet. Let them play. James said you were all for me."

Ella spun with a screech, spraying the dark-haired monster directly in the face with her pepper spray. He didn't flinch. He laughed. She whimpered as he plucked the useless can from her shaking hand and drew her to him. In the light his irises glowed a ruddy crimson, like rubies bathed in blood. Ella moaned and her knees buckled. She was starting to acknowledge the truth. This was no dream. And she was never leaving this house alive.

Behind her there was a sharp cracking sound and Meghan's voice cried out in agony. James and Victoria were laughing, their voices sweet, joyful and bell-like in their timbre. The beauty of these creatures made them all the more ghastly. Laurent lifted Ella off her feet, flipping her around effortlessly and holding her suspended by her throat and jaw. He made her watch as the sadistic pair slowly tortured Meghan, drinking from her wrists, her thigh, the soft flesh of her breast, their kisses a demonic perversion of foreplay. Her cries had faded to a keening whimper before James finally lowered his fangs to her jugular and drained the last of her blood.

Ella was quaking violently, unable to scream or run or fight. Her fingers clawed impotently at the inhuman hand about her throat.

"Go ahead, Laurent. You don't have to wait any longer." James turned his back on Ella and pulled Victoria into his arms. Ella watched in disbelief as they shed their clothes in blood-stained tatters and ravaged each other with animalistic snarls and orgiastic cries, mating violently in the middle of the room between the rapidly cooling bodies of her best friends. Laurent's fangs sank into her neck but she was beyond pain. She felt her blood being pulled in frantic surges through the wound and her vision gradually dimmed, lowering the curtain over the nightmare scene.

* * *

><p>"Watching the news again?"<p>

Alice nodded absently. Edward joined her on the couch, splitting his attention between the drama unfolding on screen and the visions racing through his sister's mind. The news anchor's voice was mechanical as she related the gruesome details of a crime scene in southern Oregon.

"This small coastal community has been shaken to its core by a discovery made Monday morning. Jack Engels, a real estate agent from Coos Bay, arrived at the house he recently listed to find a scene from a horror movie. The bodies of three female college students were found in the first floor of the home, mutilated as if by an animal attack. Officers on the scene found no fingerprints and have issued a plea for any leads that could help solve this heinous crime. The only clue they have so far is reports of an abandoned vehicle further south on Highway 101 which was reported stolen from a dealership in Sacramento last week."

A short video clip showed the front of a house, surrounded by trees with the perimeter cordoned off with yellow tape. The screen switched to show a dark olive Land Cruiser parked on the gravel shoulder, its left front tire completely flat.

Edward watched Alice's eyes flicker as she sorted through memories, visions and her own analysis of the clues. "They're getting closer. This is the third incident in the last two months. The first was in LA. The second in Redding. And now they plan to work their way up the coast. They're coming here."

Edward gritted his teeth, thinking of the three slaughtered girls. They were barely older than Bella. He needed to see her, to know she was okay. Panic was surging through his veins and he leapt from the room, pursued by a vision her could not escape. The soulless crimson eyes of a blonde-haired vampire.

* * *

><p><em>Note to self: Don't offer vampire hitchhikers a ride.<em>


	7. Not Another Teen Party (M)

**"Not Another Teen Party"**

**Universe: AU**

**Rating: M (For Sensuality)**

**Characters: Edward, Bella, the other usual suspects**

**Genre: Romance**

**Summary: Bella thinks she's going to regret attending Jessica's Halloween costume party, but when she encounters Edward Cullen, a newly arrived student, he makes her very happy she came.**

**Disclaimer: I'm just grateful that I get to play with Stephenie Meyer's characters.**

* * *

><p>I glanced at the clock and marked my page with a battered bookmark. I had procrastinated as long as possible and now I only had 30 minutes to get ready before Angela and Ben would be here to pick me up. Why did I even agree to this? I had run out of excuses to avoid the parties and barbecues that served as the only social events here in Forks.<p>

Jessica Stanley was throwing a huge Halloween costume party. I'm sure everyone else was excited but I couldn't help the wistful glance I cast over my shoulder at my dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice. Mr. Darcy just got his ass handed to him on a plate by Elizabeth Bennett and I wanted to wallow with him for the rest of the evening.

I trudged over to my closet and started pulling on the costume that I cobbled together from various shops in Port Angeles. I never should have procrastinated on finding a costume. By the time I got to the only real department store in town, the Halloween section had been picked through pretty thoroughly. Instead I was wearing a plaid shirt tucked into blue jeans, brown boots and a cowgirl hat.

The clock was glaring at me now as I pulled my hair into two tight braids. I heard a honk outside. Angela and Ben were here. I grabbed my only purse, stuffed my wallet inside and raced for the stairs.

I stumbled a bit as I passed the mirror in the hallway. I didn't realize these jeans would look so form-fitting. And the button between my breasts refused to lay flat. It opened a gap in the fabric every time I moved my arms or shoulders. I guess my chest and hips were a bit. . . um. . . more than a year ago. I bit my lip as I hesitated. I wasn't entirely comfortable with my reflection, but another honk from outside sent me scrambling for the front door. Oh, well. It was just one night and most people wouldn't notice what I was wearing next to the more revealing costumes I expected to see there tonight. I snagged my coat off of the hook by the door as I passed.

"Wow, Bella. You look cute!" exclaimed Angela as I climbed into Ben's old Honda Civic.

I glared at her in response. She broke out into a fit of giggles at my expression.

"Let's just get this over with, okay?"

"Yes ma'am," Ben responded with an exaggerated drawl, but his smirk made it clear he was just kidding. They were dressed as Robin Hood and Maid Marian. A very short Robin and a very tall Marian.

Angela and Ben proceeded to whisper to each other as we drove, breaking into flirtatious giggles every few minutes. I love my friends, but I couldn't help feeling like the proverbial third wheel whenever we went out together. Charlie wants me to get out more with the kids my age. The fact is I have always felt more at home with the characters from my books. They have always seemed to make more sense to me.

Of course the whole 'fictional' thing posed a problem, but it didn't make me any happier to huddle around a lunch table gossiping and giggling with the girls at school.

I nibbled on a bothersome hang nail and watched the dark, dripping trees flit by for the rest of the trip.

"Oh, there's a new family in town!" Angela's excited voice interrupted my musings.

"Really?" I tried to infuse some interest and enthusiasm into my tone.

"Yeah. A doctor, his wife and five adopted children. The older three are seniors like us, but the younger two will be starting as juniors. I heard that they are all gorgeous, especially the junior boy." She smirked at me over her shoulder.

I rolled my eyes. I felt bad for any kids forced to start over in a new school part way through the year, especially in such an insular community as Forks.

"Let me guess, Jessica's mom met the doctor and told Jessica who proceeded to call everyone she knew with the news," I stated dryly. Jessica knew everything about everyone and wasn't afraid to share her opinions either.

"Okay, fine. But it is exciting to have new people. It can get so. . . quiet around here."

I just entered the twilight zone. Angela Weber was complaining that Forks was too quiet? I eyed her critically. She didn't look sick. . .

We pulled up to the Stanley residence and Ben wedged his car into a tiny gap between two trees. My monstrous truck would never fit there.

We walked up to the open front door together. I tripped over the uneven ground but I caught myself with my hand on the hood of a shiny silver car. I didn't recognize it and wondered if Lauren had finally convinced her mother to buy her a new car for her 18th birthday. It looked like the kind of car that a snobby girl like her would drive.

I dragged my feet a little as we neared the front door. Loud music, laughing, shrieking. . . not my idea of a fun night. Angela beckoned impatiently and I closed the distance between where I was and where I _really_ didn't want to be.

The first thing that hit me when we stepped inside was the heat! Over 50 people were crammed into Jessica's living room and I could see more clustered around a silver barrel in the kitchen. Almost everyone held a red plastic cup in their hand. Even Angela, my dependable, straight-laced friend, _the preacher's daughter_, was grabbing one from Jessica's outstretched hand. I was glad to see that Ben denied the proffered drink. He took his responsibility to Angela and me as our driver very seriously.

I shrugged out of my coat and laid it on the growing pile next to the door. The heat was making beads of sweat gather along my hairline. As I stood, I was assaulted by the smell of hairspray, oil-based make up, perfume and beer when Jessica slammed into me, hugging me way too tight.

"Beeelllaaa! Oh, my gosh! You look soooo amazing. Lauren, doesn't she look amazing?" Lauren responded with a silent sneer which Jessica didn't even seem to notice. "Bella, I didn't think you were going to come. Here, have a drink. Eric's cousin is in town and he brought a keg. Awesome, huh?"

I nodded dumbly in agreement or acknowledgement or. . . something, still reeling from her attack.

She spun away to greet someone else and I found myself squeezing between mashed bodies, my illicit beverage raised high above my head to avoid spilling. Several people called out greetings, at least one person grabbed my butt, but I made it to the kitchen relatively unscathed. I deposited my unwanted drink on the counter and grabbed a water bottle instead. Now I just needed to find a quiet corner to hide until Angela and Ben were ready to leave.

Quiet was easier said than done, as every corner seemed to be inhabited by couples in various stages of intimacy. I swear I saw a breast exposed. I cringed away from that room and followed my feet wherever open floor-space took me. I squeezed between two football players and broke out into the Stanley's great room. All of the furniture had been pushed to the side to make an impromptu dance floor. Eric Yorkie stood in the corner behind a table piled with electrical equipment and speakers. On the far side of the room from me was a darker doorway. I knew, from a previous visit, that this led to the garage and a door into Mrs. Stanley's neglected garden. That was my goal. I just had to make my way through the twisting, sweaty bodies that writhed to the pulsing beat.

I scanned the room from left to right, startled by a pair of guys standing several paces from me. Their heads were inclined toward one another, but their eyes were fixed on the center of the dancing crowd. The first was tall, muscular, and one of the most scarily handsome men I had ever seen. He made an awfully convincing pirate. His friend was almost as tall, more slender, but still showing evidence of an athletic build beneath his military fatigues. His wavy blond hair fell over his face and he shook it back impatiently. He was gorgeous. . . but his expression showed intense discomfort. Hmmm, a man after my own heart. He looked like he could use a break from the crowd, too.

I didn't recognize either one, but by the sideways glances everyone kept casting their way, I assumed these were two of the new kids. They didn't really fit with the rest of Fork's adolescent crowd.

I followed their gaze and knew immediately what was holding their attention. In the very center of the room, surrounded by a crowd of dancers, but still given a healthy amount of space, two of the most stunning women I had ever laid eyes on danced and swayed to the music. Her figure was shown off by the off-the-shoulder blouse, corset and peasant skirt she wore. The blond was statuesque and beautiful beyond words. Her honey-gold hair reached her hips, flowing around her shoulders as she danced. She was very graceful, but even more eye-catching was the power and strength that seemed to pulse from every erotic move. She winked back at the men and the taller, dark-haired one met her gaze with an air-kiss.

Her partner was dressed as a flapper, her short black hair held off her forehead with a woven gold head band. Her features were sharp but delicate and her body. . . wow! I was stunned by the liquid grace of her movements. She combined hip hop dance moves with the fluid strength and balance of a ballerina. When I considered my own clumsy attempts at dancing I blushed in private humiliation.

After witnessing the inhuman grace and beauty of my new classmates, I wanted nothing more than to hide away for the rest of the school year. With new determination, I pressed into the crowd, skirting to the right to stay as far away from the new kids as possible. The wall of flesh was impervious to my attempts, so I finally started to throw elbows and stomp on feet to make it through. I only made the mistake of looking up once and caught the cheerfully insipid eye of Mike Newton.

_Ummm, no thanks. _

I put my head down and plowed through the crowd with renewed energy. The temperature dropped ten degrees the moment I reached my destination. I slipped through the dark corridor and practically burst out of the back door onto the dimly lit patio.

I couldn't contain my cry of relief as I threw my arms out to embrace the cool night air. It was so invigorating! My body felt awake and refreshed immediately. I dropped my water bottle and spun with my arms wide like an airplane, my eyes clenched shut and my mouth open in a carefree laugh. It doesn't take much to make me happy.

I dropped my arms and opened my eyes. I was facing the house now. The top half of the door was glass, bathing the patio in filtered light.

I wasn't alone.

A figure leaned against the siding, staring at me. He made no sound. James Dean in the flesh from light blue jeans and white t-shirt to the distressed leather jacket. He raised his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled, holding it in and waiting.

My eyes gradually adjusted to the meager light. He held a red cup in his hand like most of the party-goers. A cigarette was balanced between the long fingers of his other hand. He was glaring at me from beneath lowered eyebrows. His hair was messy and hung over his forehead. My eyes traveled over the length of his body before returning to his frigid stare.

I suddenly realized that I was just looking at him and not speaking. He had obviously been trying to escape the party, like me, and I had just intruded on his solitude.

"I'm so s-s-sorry," I stammered out an apology.

He remained silent, his shoulders hunched and tense. I could tell he was furious. I stepped forward hesitantly, determined to make peace.

"I'm Bella Swan. I'm sorry for being rude. I really didn't know anyone else was out here."

I could see his eyes now. They were dark, but flashed with an amber hue when he raised his head slightly. He tilted it to the side, evaluating me.

I froze. There was something. . . different about him. His features were angular but so devastatingly handsome that my breath caught in my throat. I knew who he was immediately. He must be the fifth child in the doctor's family. The one that Jessica had singled out in her gossip.

He bent over to set his drink on the ground and smeared the cigarette butt into the wet pavement with his shoe. When he stood a crooked smirk hovered about his lips. He paced toward me slowly, prowling like a lion with fluid strength and power oozing from every motion. My feet seemed to be glued to the ground. I wanted to step back, but at the same time I was caught in his gaze and could not look away.

My racing heart was drowning out the thundering bass. I could no longer hear anything else. My vision narrowed down to his face, his eyes. I felt the heat in my face as blood rushed to stain my cheeks.

He exhaled the smoke that he had been holding in his lungs and drew in a deep draught of fresh air. I was startled by the low growl that rumbled in his chest. And then he spoke and my heart leapt into my throat.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Edward Cullen."

His voice was so soft, but deep. I felt it physically caress my skin sending warm shivers across my entire body. I knew I should respond with some nicety; an observation about the party, the costumes or the choice of music, perhaps? But my tongue was frozen in my mouth and my jaw refused to move. I was mesmerized by his eyes. They drew me in, hypnotized me. They sucked me closer and closer and I realized I wanted nothing more than to drown in them.

He reached his hand out toward me and then paused. A flurry of emotions crossed his face. The anger from before was gone, but he seemed so conflicted.

When his fingers touched my cheek I gasped; the feather-like caress sent shivers down my spine and my nipples hardened with the sudden cold. Detached as I was from my body, I was startled to feel something uncoiling deep within me. A growing heat spread from the pit of my stomach into my chest and out my arms and legs until even my fingers and toes were humming with the fire of his golden gaze. The feeling was new and startling but surprisingly pleasurable.

Edward's eyes traveled down my body and back up again. I dragged in a quick gasp of air as soon as he broke eye-contact, startled to realize that I had forgotten to breath. I cursed my decision to wear these clothes as I was sure he could see every detail of my body through the fabric that stretched across my chest and hips. I was mortified when his gaze paused on my breasts. When his eyes met mine again he was grinning as if he could see the heated knot deep within my belly and it amused him.

His fingers glided along my jaw to the tender spot behind my ear. He briefly fingered one of my braids and chuckled under his breath. I couldn't understand what was so amusing. His hand came forward to cup my jaw then drew a line of goose pimples down the center of my throat until his fingertips hovered over the treacherous button. Then, so slowly that I wanted to scream, they dipped between the layers of cotton to caress the trembling flesh between my breasts. He popped open my top two buttons then traced back up my collar, across my collarbone and eventually rested his fingertips against my throat. I could feel my pulse pounding against his touch. He looked down to where our skin met and whispered something unintelligible to himself.

His fingers crept back until he was cupping my neck with his hand. I shivered at the contrast of his icy flesh against my superheated skin. He paused. Then, slowly but inexorably, his head began to lower to mine.

My eyes fluttered closed, waiting for. . . I don't know what. But I was helpless to move. I didn't want to discourage his advance. There was nothing else I wanted than to remain right here being touched by him.

The sweetest scent enveloped me. Like cinnamon and sandalwood and the dried grasses of late summer. I drank it in and smiled, intoxicated by his presence. His nose and lips brushed against my cheek and I leaned into his touch. Then his lips traveled along the same path as his fingers. . . along my jaw, down my neck to the valley between my breasts. I trembled against him when his breath washed over me. Strong arms encircled me, iron and steel trapping me against him. I pressed closer.

I groaned when his lips found my neck, tilting my head to the side to encourage him. His answering moan made the heated tangle in my belly unfurl and I sagged against him. He bent me over his arms, nuzzling my neck and pressing kisses against every inch of skin.

My body was taken over by a new confidence, an instinctive desire for his lips and hands to explore me more. I had never felt this awake, this alive! I buried my hands in his hair, feeling the thick, heavy strands run between my fingers. He paused and began to pull away, suddenly stiffening in my arms.

"Edward," I hummed his name, encouraging him to. . . I don't know what, but I couldn't bear for him to stop.

I held his mouth against my exposed throat with all my strength. With a desperate gasp he submitted and attacked my throat with his lips again. One hand pressed into the center of my back while the other slipped over my hip and down my thigh. When he grasped the back of my knee and lifted me up, I wrapped both legs around his waist and forced myself against him.

The heat in my stomach spread and then focused into a pulsing pressure between my thighs. Without thinking of the consequences I writhed against him looking for some kind of relief. My eyes were closed. I was spinning. I suddenly found myself pinned firmly against the wall where he had been standing before. I heard the sound of plastic and liquid hitting pavement and he cursed beneath his breath, but quickly returned his mouth to mine, kissing me so deeply I was left struggling for air. His lips, so hard, yet smooth as silk, were bruising me, but I couldn't find it in me to object.

"Bella. . . so beautiful. . ." he murmured between kisses, pressing his body against me. He was so hard, his entire body rigid as granite, but molding against mine. I wanted more, something I couldn't imagine or articulate, but I knew we could get closer. I needed him closer.

"Edward, more. . . please!" I cried in a voice I did not recognize.

His response was an animalistic growl and his hand gripped my thigh, dragging it higher on his waist so our centers were molded firmly together. His other hand found my left breast, squeezing viciously and I wiggled against him with the intense pleasure. I hardly paused to consider the fact that I was making out with and being groped by a complete stranger in Jessica Stanley's back yard. Nothing was going to interrupt this. . .

The door slammed open.

"Edward! We have to leave, now!"

I looked over in shock at the petite brunette who was glaring at her adopted brother with anger flashing across her face. The three other siblings crowded the doorway with varying expressions on their faces. The tall blond model looked absolutely disgusted, the dark-haired giant was struggling to hide his laughter, and the blond boy was assessing us both with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk.

I looked back at Edward, my eyes wide with shock, blushing the darkest shade of magenta. His breathing was irregular and his eyes were dark and full of lust, but there was also pain and tension around them. I cupped his cheek with my hand as he lowered me gently back to the ground. His shoulders were rigid and shaking. I wanted to sooth him, comfort him.

"It was nice to meet you," I said, only realizing the absurdity of my comment when the big one roared with unabashed laughter.

"I . . .," he was lost for words. Eyes wide and mouth frozen in a silent gasp, he just stared.

With a hasty attempt to straighten my clothing, I ducked under his arm and through the door, grateful that his siblings didn't hinder my escape. The party was still crowded and ear-splittingly loud so it took me several minutes to find Angela.

"Can we leave now?" I choked out.

Angela assessed my rumpled clothes and swollen lips.

"Bella, are you okay? What happened?"

"Um, we can talk on the way home. Let's just say, I met Edward Cullen. . . and I don't know if I am more excited or terrified to go to school on Monday."

Her jaw dropped and her eyes looked like they would pop out of her head. She looked over me again, returning to my blushing cheeks and embarrassed grin.

"Oh, my, gosh," she gasped in disbelief. "You're right, it's time to go. I want to hear everything."

She found Ben and hustled us both out the door into the cool night air. I tugged my coat on and wrapped my arms tightly around myself, desperate to hold onto the feeling of his strong arms around me. Standing next to the open door of the silver car was none other than Edward Cullen. His siblings were already in their seats, but he just stood and watched me stumble to Ben's car with a hesitant, crooked grin.

I raised my hand in a small wave, blushing again as the whole encounter flashed through my mind. Maybe that wasn't such a girly car after all.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I was serious about my offer to write a one shot based on reader prompts. You like gore? Smut? Ghost stories? Canon? I've used up most of my ideas and we're still a long way from Halloween. Wanna join in the festivities? PM or review with your ideas. Thanks!_


	8. New Recruit (M)

**"New Recruit"**

**Universe: Canon (During Eclipse)**

**Rating: M (For language and sensuality)**

**Characters: Victoria**

**Genre: Horror**

**Summary: A single man at a club responds blindly to a siren's call. Unfortunately, he misread the invitation.**

Disclaimer: I wrote it but I don't own it.

* * *

><p>Derek saw her from across the crowded club. Sexy. Untamed. He paused, his tumbler of whiskey hovering just beneath his open mouth. Neon lights painted flickering paths across ivory skin. Breasts rose firm and round beneath black lace. Her denim mini rode up sculpted thighs. Fingers raked wildly through coils of red-gold hair.<p>

Her eyes were closed. Her body dipped and spun, swayed and twisted. Sinuous. Provocative. He wasn't the only one watching. She danced alone, an invisible force holding back the crowd. Too beautiful. Too perfect. Otherworldly in her fluid grace.

Derek tossed back the rest of his whiskey. He was sweating. Unable to tear his eyes away.

The beat slowed. The DJ layered and morphed the tracks until a sultry, jazz inspired song dominated. The crowd followed suit. Heavy steps. Jerking hips. The red-haired goddess slipped through the crowd toward him. He swallowed heavily. Her eyes were hooded. Measuring. Questioning. Choosing.

A graceful hand reached out in passing, hooked fingers through his belt. Pulling. Follow me.

He followed.

Icy air. Dark. Brick walls rising before and behind. The scent of wanton desire enveloped him. Her touch, her movements screamed sex.

Down city streets shining black beneath the mist. Streetlamps and traffic signals reflecting off opalescent skin. So much skin. So much hunger.

The briny smell of Puget Sound crawled up his sinuses. Sea weed. Salt. Diesel rainbows on inky water.

The warehouse sat on rotting timbers. Barnacles climbed. Sea weed clung. Silence reigned.

She slipped between the doors, hanging heavy and ponderous on rusted tracks. He trailed. Captivated.

Rotted planks and fetid air. He didn't care. She turned to face him. Beckoned him forward with hands and eyes and voice. He succumbed without a pause.

Fire and ice, pliable human flesh against supernatural rigidity. He didn't notice. Didn't think. Her hands were in his hair. Her mouth at his throat. Her tongue tracing the pounding, pulsating, engorged vein in his neck. He moaned, head back, his cock rising in expectation of complete satiation.

Her teeth cut like razors. Her fingers dug painfully into tender flesh. Her throat convulsed with the sweetness and pleasure of his blood pouring forth. His moan became a scream. Blinding pain escalated into unrelenting torture. Her lips and tongue stroked the gaping wound tenderly. Possessively. Sealing in her venom.

His veins were filled with slivered glass. Shredding. Transforming. Obliterating humanity and leaving a monstrous thirst in their wake.

He convulsed in agony at her feet. His destroyer. His maker. His master.


	9. Guardian (M)

**"Guardian"**

**Universe: AH**

**Rating: M (Gore and Sensuality)**

**Characters: Edward, Bella, Tanya  
><strong>

**Genre: Supernatural Horror**

**Summary: Find a penny pick it up and all the day you'll have good luck. Edward is the luckiest kid alive. Or so he thought.**

Disclaimer: Why didn't Edward visit me in a dream? Because my name isn't Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Thank you, Frostedglaze, for the story prompt. I hope it lives up to your expectations!<strong>

* * *

><p>I used to believe I had a guardian angel. Now I'm not so sure.<p>

When I was seven years old, my mom left me in the car at the grocery store while she returned the shopping cart to the corral. I noticed a penny on the ground in the empty stall next to us, unbuckled my seatbelt, opened the door and climbed out to grab it. The next several seconds were a blur and no matter how hard I've focused playing through my memory of the incident, I've never been able to figure out what happened.

One moment I was bending over to grab the penny. It was heads up so I was making a wish - I wanted to have super powers like Spiderman. Out of nowhere there was an awful screeching sound. I heard my mother cry my name in panic. And then, suddenly and without warning, I was standing at the front of the car watching as a van swerved into the empty stall, tearing off my open door and coming to a halt in the very spot where I had been crouched.

I looked from the mangled door to the shocked face of the teenager who was driving the van. My mother sprinted between the parked cars, screaming hysterically. When she saw me standing there completely unharmed she collapsed on the ground, pulled me into her lap and cried into my hair until the ambulance arrived. They checked us all out, then the police arrived and wrote up a report. The teenage driver was so shaken his parents had to come and get him. My dad showed up in his suit, grim faced and scared, to take us home. My mother couldn't drive. The groceries sat forgotten in the trunk.

That's when I started carrying my lucky penny in my pocket everywhere I went.

It's also when my parents started taking me to church every Sunday.

During Sunday school I learned about angels; guardian angels, in particular. I told my story expecting the teacher to be excited that someone had real world experience with the phenomenon. She smiled in that patronizing way that adults do and I knew she didn't believe a word of it.

It wasn't the only time my guardian angel stepped in to save me, but I never felt comfortable talking about it again. Most of the incidents were minor but occasionally they were odd enough that others noticed.

When I was in seventh grade I slipped while practicing drop-ins on my skateboard. My buddies said they were positive I was going to crack my head on the lip. I wasn't wearing my helmet and I'm sure I would have gotten a concussion, or worse. Instead, I found myself lying flat on my back at the bottom of an 8-foot pool with no memory of the impact, no marks, no bruises and zero pain. My skateboard was rolling back and forth pendulum like over the central drain.

When I was sixteen, I went camping with five of my friends from my soccer team. There was a trail up the mountain above our campsite that we decided to race up. I've always been one of the fastest runners on my team so I took the lead, taking a fierce pride in the sounds of their labored breathing and grunts of exertion behind me. I was taking the hill easily, pulling deep breaths of the clean mountain air and leaning into the incline. I reached a point where the trail leveled off across a bald, rocky clearing. I had an unobstructed view of the surrounding mountains and the blue-green valley and twisting river below. I was breathing easily, striding casually back and forth as the others staggered over the lip and bent over, hands on their knees, to recover their wind.

"Edward, you're a fucking animal. What, are you trying to kill us?"

I laughed at Jamon's griping. It felt so good to run that fast. Like I had wings. "Naw, man. I was just making sure I didn't have to run behind you. You smell like ass when you sweat."

"Fuck you," he groaned, collapsing onto the ground while the rest of our friends laughed.

Our hilarity was cut off by the tearing, crashing sound of three giant boulders careening down the mountain side above us. The other guys were in the clear on the lower east side of the clearing. I was standing dead center like my ass was pinned to the bulls-eye of a target. I should have dived to one side or the other. If I had a second to think I probably would have. Instead, my instincts made me turn and run from the threat. Straight off the rocky outcropping.

They say I fell one hundred and thirty feet. But I know the truth. I didn't fall. I floated. I was carried down and set on a sturdy branch, clutching the sap coated trunk of a pine tree as tons of granite came crashing down the cliff face to shatter on the ground twenty feet below me. Shards of rock whizzed past me, several of them slicing through my exposed skin. It felt like being shot by a shotgun loaded with rock salt. One chunk was imbedded in my arm and had to be surgically removed at the ER.

Seconds later my friends appeared at the edge, shouting and searching for my mangled body. I called out to them and waved from my perch. Another miracle.

I was shaken. This was not a blurry childhood memory. This happened. I saw and felt everything. I sensed her arms around me, her cold breath on my neck, the brush of her lips against my temple as she set me down. I climbed down from the tree collecting a few scrapes and bruises on the way. It took a while to find my way back to the camp site where the guys were waiting with the gear all packed, ready to drive me to the hospital. I was rubbing the lucky penny in my pocket the whole way.

My mom started going to church every morning, lighting candles and thanking God for my deliverance. I wasn't sure if God or his angels had played a role or not. The presence I felt was distinctly feminine and everything I had been taught said that angels have no gender.

I played it safe from then on. No more extreme sports. No cliff diving, intentional or otherwise. I turned down invitations to go jet skiing and white water rafting. I already had two certain-death experiences. Obviously my time was up at an early age and my guardian angel was the only reason I was still around. I wasn't about to presume that she would be there for round three. After all, three strikes, you're out. Right?

I think most of my friends and their parents understood. If you fall off a cliff once it forces you to face your mortality in a way most other people don't have to. Like facing a terminal illness of or the death of a close family member.

I threw myself into safer activities like soccer, which I loved, and my school work. I also took up sketching. My first pictures were copies of my favorite comic book heroes. That entertained me for a while but I knew I was just plagiarizing somebody else's style. When my parents gave me a wooden case full of drawing pencils and a stack of Moleskines for Christmas I was thrilled.

I started sketching still-lifes using random items around the house for practice. The art teacher at school, Ms. Callans, was impressed and pushed me to try sketching people. My first attempts were terrible. I had to sit out of three soccer practices due to a sprained ankle so I tried drawing my team mates in their different positions and poses on the field, but I couldn't get any of the dimensions or angles right. My coach was constantly yelling at them and I was distracted. On a whim, I sketched his profile. I was immediately impressed by how easy it was to change the emotion and expression on a human face with the tiniest amount of shadow, a heavier stroke, or an extra line near the eye.

I told Ms. Callans about my experience and she gave me an anatomy book that showed all of the bones and muscles of the human face and how they interacted beneath the covering of skin and hair, plus the varied tints and tones of skin, lips and hair color. Understanding the foundation of human expression allowed me to create lifelike portraits of anyone.

Word of my talent got around and the editor of the school paper asked me to contribute sketches for their weekly focus articles. My third assignment was sketching the president of the drama club, Tanya Denali. Drawing her was easy. Her face was so animated. And she was gorgeous. I spent hours after our session filling an entire book with drawings of her. I focused on her hair, trying to capture the effect of sunlight which made the strawberry blond strands glow like embers.

The next Monday I shyly approached Tanya during lunch. She cheerfully agreed to let me practice sketching her. We met in the evening after I finished soccer practice and she was done with rehearsals. We walked down to the ice cream parlor and sat talking and sipping from our milkshakes while I drew her. At first she was stiff, self-conscious about the need to pose or pause in a particular position. I tried to explain how my mind and eyes worked, capturing a snap shot of a single expression or position and then drawing as if it were a video reel paused for me to examine and duplicate that single frame. I could tell she didn't really understand but she gradually relaxed and we just talked and hung out.

The funny thing was we had absolutely nothing in common with each other. She was the oldest of three girls and I was an only child. Her parents both worked so she went to day care most of her early childhood where as my mother stayed at home with me and still spent most of her time on activities around the house in between caring for me and my father. I was immersed in athletic activities year-round and she only ever pushed herself physically when her summer camp counselors made them go hiking or canoeing. Despite our differences, or maybe because of them, we enjoyed each other's company.

We never talked about dating. It didn't even start out as a romantic relationship. However, we spent so much time together that it only felt natural to sit together at lunch, hold hands walking to class, text each other jokes or gripes or gossip throughout the day. My friends thought she was hot. Her friends enjoyed teasing and flirting with me, trying to get me to blush.

I didn't realize what an all-consuming crush I had developed until she was sick for a few days and missed school. I was irritable, distracted and couldn't draw a straight line to save my life. The moment she stepped off the bus that Thursday, I asked her to be my girlfriend. Her skin was pale and her nose was red and chapped from blowing it too many times. I had never seen her looking more beautiful. She said yes and hugged me. I had never registered how good she smelled before. I buried my face in her hair and squeezed her against me, loving the feeling of her breasts pushing against my chest and the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.

That afternoon, we shared a milkshake and our first kiss. I felt my face flaming brighter than my hair and I couldn't stop grinning. We left the ice cream parlor and started walking back to school where our cars were parked. We stopped at the crossing signal, still holding hands and talking about her new role in the upcoming play. She didn't have the lead, but she was determined to infuse as much depth into her character portrayal as possible. I released her hand to tuck my sketchbook and pencils into my backpack. I felt a sudden gust of wind and watched with utter shock as she plunged headfirst into the street directly in front of a delivery truck. I released my bag and lunged for her, grabbing desperately at her flailing arm. The truck swerved to avoid her but struck her head with the most revolting sound. The driver skidded to a stop and jumped out of his cab, already on the phone with 911.

I was horrified. The entire scene was so surreal. I was on my knees beside her, holding her twitching hand and struggling to make sense of what just happened. Her face was a mangled mess of bone fragments and blood. Her hair gleamed wet with gore, chunks of tissue imbedded in the once brilliant strands. I couldn't help thinking back to the medical drawings in Ms. Callans' book. The delicate web of muscle fibers, tendons, sculpted bone and nerves destroyed, obliterated by the impact.

There was absolutely nothing I could do. I held her hand and cried. I talked to her but it was a rambling, unintelligible mess even to my own ears.

She died before the ambulance arrived.

I was in shock for days and staggered through the funeral in a haze of grief and confusion. The cops, her parents, they all wanted to know what happened. So did I. The driver said he saw us standing at the corner well away from the curb and she just flew forward without warning. Several other witnesses, included the guy at the ice cream parlor confirmed that I was not touching her in any way. That didn't help dispel my guilt, or my horror. If anything, it made them worse. I just knew that if I had been holding her hand, the wind, or whatever it was, wouldn't have touched her.

I went to sleep the night of the funeral and got lost in nightmare after nightmare. My third strike hadn't hit me. It had killed Tanya. And my guardian angel hadn't seen fit to save her.

I attended grief counseling. I had weekly appointments with the school counselor and also with a shrink in down town Seattle. They were all trying to help me face and deal with my pain. None of it helped. The only thing that made me feel remotely better was flipping through my old sketchbooks and looking at her face before it was destroyed. She had been so beautiful. Not just on the surface, but through and through.

My senior year I made an effort to move on with my life. In January I filled out college applications and the FAFSA. I continued to play soccer. But I couldn't pick up a pencil. That was one pastime that was closed to me forever.

One night at a party Jamon and Tyler were teasing me about being a virgin. Their comments cut me to the core. I could have seen myself taking that step with Tanya. I had admired her. I thought she was incredible. And yeah, she was in my head a lot when I masturbated. I had loved the feeling of her body the one time she hugged me, and the softness of her lips against mine. I would have been insane with excitement if she had let me be with her like that. Jerking off felt good but imagining her body so warm and wet wrapped around me would have been heaven.

I left the party feeling guilty as hell and sick. I vomited in the bushes and walked home in a daze. That night I couldn't stop the images from popping into my head. When I grabbed my dick and started stroking it, I thought of her. The more I got excited, the more I anticipated what could have been. What should have been. Just as I came, my brain conjured up the image of her face, smashed and bloodied. I recoiled in horror, suddenly disgusted with myself and wanting to vomit again.

I cleaned myself up and fell into bed, crying and heart sick and consumed by guilt.

I avoided the guys for days. Jamon found me after school the following Friday and apologized for being an insensitive prick. I managed to accept his apology somewhat gracefully, but I really wanted to punch him in the gut.

"Seriously, man. I'm sorry. I know I'm a dick sometimes but I was just trying to cheer you up. Help you take your mind off stuff, you know? Look, I got you something." He handed me a manila envelope. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow before peaking inside. He'd bought me a copy of Playboy.

"Um. Please tell me this is new."

"It's as much a virgin as you are, my friend."

"Gosh, you're such an asshole." I shook my head but couldn't stop the grin that formed against my will.

"You know you love me." He gave me a playful shove and headed off to catch his bus.

I drove home in a bit of a fog, braking suddenly when I realized the car in front of me was stopped at a red light. I forced myself to focus for the remainder of the drive.

The innocuous looking yellow envelope sat on my desk taunting me as I slogged through my homework. It was the final quarter of my senior year. I knew I could relax a bit. My grades were solid, but I needed the rigidity of my schedule to maintain my sanity.

When I finally finished scratching out the last math problem I got up, locked my bedroom door and pulled out the magazine. The woman on the cover was wearing horn rimmed glasses, a white blouse unbuttoned enough to show her red lacy bra and stood leaning in a domineering fashion on a huge desk. Thankfully she was a brunette with dark, almost olive toned skin. She looked nothing like Tanya. I could already feel myself getting aroused. I shed my socks, shoes and clothes and sat down on the edge of my bed with a box of tissue close by. I planned to keep my eyes open, focusing on the photos and leaving no opportunity for memories or nightmares to creep in. I stroked myself experimentally a couple times, imagining the chick on the cover standing in front of me. I flipped open the magazine to the first glossy colored page. . . and froze.

The space where a naked woman should have been was covered with a blurred gray smear. I turned to the next page and saw the same thing. My dick hung limp and forgotten between my thighs as I flipped frantically through the rest of the magazine. The words were there. The titles. The backgrounds. Everything. But every woman's body was blurred out completely.

I was insane with fury. Jamon had always been a bit of a douche bag but I thought we were at least friends. This was lower than low. Next time I saw him I was going to punch him full on in the gut and I wasn't going to hold back.

I channeled my anger and the adrenaline it raised into getting some much needed relief using the bitchy looking teacher on the cover. I imagined taking her roughly over her desk, hiking up her black mini, tearing open the transparent blouse and grabbing her tits with both hands. I was hard as a rock again and panting furiously when I felt an icy grip close around my wrist and stall my movements. There was a pressure, not even a physical touch, but more the sensation of very cold, dense air pressing against my back. My skin erupted into gooseflesh and I froze. A whisper of air caressed my ear. I leapt to my feet with a yell, backing away from the invisible presence on my bed. I was pressed up against the wall, completely naked, my erection forgotten. The room was empty but I wasn't alone.

I gulped air, trying to hear past my pulse pounding in my ears. "What are you?" I hissed.

There was no answer.

I stood for what felt like an eternity until I was shivering and stiff with cold. Eventually, I found the courage to snatch my clothes off the floor, get dressed and flee the room. I half ran, half fell down the stairs. The lights were on in the kitchen but neither of my parents were home. My mom had left a note taped to the fridge.

_Edward,_

_ I didn't want to bother you while you were studying. I'm meeting Esther for dinner at the club and Dad has an evening appointment. Help yourself to leftovers in the casserole dish on the bottom shelf of the fridge._

_Love you, Hun._

_Mom_

My mom learned years ago to respect the closed bedroom door. We both almost died from embarrassment when she walked in on me jerking off during my freshman year. By 'the club', she meant the exclusive golf and country club my parents belong to. My dad had evening appointments several times a week so that was nothing new either. As freaked out as I was, I wasn't sure if I wished they were here or if I'm glad they were both out. I eyed the stairs furtively as I considered my dinner options. I could heat up leftovers but I detested tuna casserole. I could order a pizza but I didn't want a stranger showing up at the house if my visitor was still upstairs. I ran my eyes over the contents of the pantry and settled on a can of Chef Boyardee alphabet soup. I used to love that stuff and still ate it occasionally when I was feeling lazy, sick or just needed a cheerful bite of nostalgia.

I emptied the gloppy contents of the can into a small saucepan, put it on the stove on medium heat and covered it with a lid. While I waited for it to come to a boil, I popped open a Pepsi and stared at the stairs and the landing, half expecting her to materialize. I knew she wasn't real. Not in the physical sense, at least. But I had felt her hand on me. I knew she was there on my bed. The questions I kept asking myself were why? And how? I would alternately calm down enough to relax and then a shiver would run from the base of my spine to my ears and I would be freaking out again.

My soup was starting to bubble so I turned off the stove, poured it into a bowl and set it on the counter to cool while I took a piss. I stared at myself in the mirror while I washed my hands. My face was white. Too white. It made my hair look darker and redder than normal and my eyes took on an eerie greenish glow behind the normal flat hazel tone. Uncomfortable and nervous, I dried my hands and went to eat my soup.

I dug a spoon out of the drawer, climbed onto a stool and pulled the soup towards me. My blood ran cold. Tiny letters floated like islands in the center of the murky fluid.

U R MINE

I gulped in terror. I felt a burning on my upper right thigh, a cold so extreme my flesh was seared to the bone. I fumbled in my pocket, yanking out the spotless copper penny I had carried with me for the last ten years. I dropped it with a panicked yell and backed away from the kitchen. The coin was sizzling and popping, with a hideous, enraged squealing sound. On reflex, I grabbed for the bottle of holy water my mom kept on the mantel. I doused the thing with water and then backed away doing the sign of the cross repeatedly. The water sizzled and boiled and the coin clattered and jumped emitting a foul smelling green mist. Within the mist there was the face of a woman. Delicate features, flowing brown hair, full lips and eyes which glowed a brilliant scarlet. I squeezed my eyes shut to hide from her hate-filled gaze. The screeching grew louder and louder until I had to cover my ears and even then it bored its way into my skull until I felt as if my eyes would melt right out of their sockets.

When I thought that I would die from the pain there was a sound like a gunshot followed by absolute silence. I was afraid to move. I was terrified beyond mortal comprehension. When nothing happened I finally opened my eyes and looked around. Eventually I lowered my hands and peered into the kitchen. The penny was gone. The green mist had dissipated. The only evidence that remained was a damp circle on the hard wood around a charred and blackened lump of metal.

* * *

><p><em>AN:I'm curious, when did _you_ figure out that the penny was possessed? _

_I wrote this story yesterday and it gave me nightmares last night. I didn't even know the penny was possessed myself until he sat down to eat his soup. Originally, I just needed a reason for 7-yr-old Edward to get out of the car so he would almost get hit and the 'guardian' could swoop in to save him. Now I wonder. . . . Spooky, yeah?_

_Any other Halloween one-shot ideas? Shoot me a PM or send me a review. Thanks!_


	10. The Slip (M)

**"Slip"**

**Universe: Canon**

**Rating: M (Rape, Murder)**

**Characters: Edward, Alice, Jasper**

**Genre: Horror, Tragedy**

**Summary: Alice's gift is an enormous burden. But it isn't what she does see that haunts her the most. It's what she doesn't.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

><p><em>I look outside and see the barest hint of false dawn lightening the eastern horizon. It's time to go. Who I am, all that I am, is crammed into my worn back pack. The seams strain against the memories cataloged in colored ink. My earliest journals full of bubbly dreams in pink and purple followed by rambling rants and poetry in blackened ink. My words have grown increasingly angular and dark with pain as the years progressed. I pack all my other essentials into the side pockets, shaking out old gum wrappers and pencil shavings to make room for clean underwear and socks, my fake ID, the contents of my childhood piggy-bank, my i-Pod, spare batteries. I wear my favorite jeans and 3 t-shirts. They won't all fit in the bag. I tie my sweatshirt around my waist.<em>

_Truthfully, I feel some guilt. But only a hint. After all, she left first. She returned eventually, but the scars never truly healed. How could they? We were never enough for her. He was never enough for her. I have watched him gradually disintegrate over the last 3 years, weary and deflated by shame and regret. She never wanted him. We could all tell. Even though she returned full of apologies and promises it was never the same. No amount of superglue or paint could repair what was shattered when she left. And I'm done pretending._

_I turn my radio up, leave the light on and close the door behind me. As it swings shut, the reflected light winks from the fractured glass of my mother's picture. She'll understand. She won't look for me. Metallica's "Unforgiven", ironically her favorite song, is playing on repeat. She will know better than to follow me. We aren't so different, after all._

* * *

><p>Alice sat down next to the empty seat in 1st period Language Arts. Even though she knew the girl would be gone, saw it weeks ago, in fact, it still saddened her. She had explored different forms of intervention from friendly overtures and an open ear to anonymous calls to the girl's father. Every one turned out worse than the last. Jennifer was smart and resourceful. She had been planning this for some time. All she needed was one more outburst from her mother to push her over the top and set her plan of escape in motion. That hit last night. There was nothing Alice or anyone else could have done to prevent it.<p>

Across the aisle, Edward caught her eye and gave her a fleeting smile of sympathy. He had hardened his heart to the plight of the angst ridden teenage minds about them decades ago. Jasper had a more difficult time. The haze of blood scent that hovered over the school was torture for him. Menstruating females, athletes with scrapes and bruises, the daring senior who came to school with a loose bandage over his fresh tattoo. . . it all served to drive him to the brink of insanity with thirst. Coupled with the roller-coaster emotions of 754 teenagers and the school's over-worked staff, Jasper left campus each and every day gritting his teeth in pain.

Alice brought her eyes and her focus back to the front of the classroom but could not help thinking of Jennifer Matson. She had a fleeting glimpse of a semi truck. Did the girl hitch a ride to the interstate? _A bag wedged between a pair of worn Converse. A blue and silver pen. A blank page. And then nothing but fog._

Human futures were harder to read than vampires. She was not close to most people for long enough to become attuned to them or the subtle vibrations their life played on the strings of the future. And their decisions were so often emotional. Spontaneous. Easily swayed by circumstance.

Alice mimicked a yawn and shifted in her seat, pretending impatience and discomfort. She suppressed a smile of amusement as she saw Edward twiddling his pencil and bouncing his knee. He had adopted that restless human habit when they began school in Maple Ridge two years ago. Jasper's signature behavior was to feign sleepiness in the class following lunch. Carlisle had struggled to maintain his composure during the parent teacher conference that conduct provoked. There was no such thing as a narcoleptic vampire.

During the third period of the day, Jasper had PE while Edward went to Chemistry and Alice sang with the choir. Alice choked up during the refrain of Ave Maria when she was struck by a terrifying vision mere seconds before it happened. The seniors were playing volleyball in the gym and the girl next to Jasper got struck in the face by a vicious spike. Alice watched, spellbound, as the girl cried out and covered her nose and mouth with her hand. Blood seeped between her fingers, dripping like crimson paint down her forearm.

Jasper's eyes widened in surprise and then turned black with all-consuming hunger. Alice teetered on her feet while he shook, desperate to inhale but forcing himself to freeze the natural impulse. He backed slowly away while the coach rushed forward to aid the injured girl. Nobody noticed him slip from the gym through a side exit. Alice breathed a sigh of relief as she watched him rush between trees and dart across narrow roads to reach their house in less than three minutes. She was terribly shaken and asked to be excused from class, pleading dizziness and a headache. The teacher directed her to go to the nurse's office, but instead she met Edward in the parking lot and they drove home, relieved but grim. That had been too close for comfort.

By the time they parked in front of the secluded house they could both feel Jasper's pain. He was unable to contain the embarrassment he felt for his weakness or the searing guilt he felt for wanting to kill the child. Edward, a party to his thoughts, grappled with the staggering power of Jasper's blood lust. The yearning for the slight popping sound when fangs first parted flesh. The soft sinking sensation of tender tissues splitting and giving way. The warm upwelling of blood like a bouquet of salt and sweetness and soothing, numbing bliss. Edward's mouth watered and his muscles thrummed with excitement for the hunt, barely restrained, his mind and body pulsing with the force of Jasper's need. In simultaneous torment, Jasper's memories scraped through his mind like serrated blades, tearing gaping wounds as they passed. The screams. The terror. The begging, pleading, hopelessness of imminent death. Jasper remembered every face. Every voice. Every wave of despair and the final moment of resignation and release. Hundreds. . . no, thousands of lives taken over the years. The echoes of their cries still tormenting their killer decades later.

Alice and Edward linked hands, grounding themselves in the physical world, and turned their thoughts and hearts outwards, forcing waves of encouragement, acceptance and love to wash back against Jasper. The battled only lasted minutes but it felt like hours. When they finally entered the bedroom, Jasper was kneeling at the foot of the bed he shared with Alice, his face buried in the comforter and his hands clasped behind his head. He looked like a prisoner awaiting execution.

Alice squeezed her brother's hand in thanks before releasing him and joining her husband on the floor, kneeling between his calves and wrapping her arms around his waist, her forehead resting in the hollow between his shoulder blades. She continued to focus on her relief, her gratitude, her love. . . any and every positive emotion she could find within herself. Jasper gradually unlocked his fingers and brought his hands down to join hers. He finally allowed himself to inhale, pulling in the familiar smells of their home. The scent of his wife on their sheets, fabric softener, wood polish, the reek of ozone seeping from the electronics in Edward's room, the aged books in Carlisle's office, crumbled charcoal and wood shavings in Esme's work room. The faintest trace of Emmett and Rosalie's scent lingered from their visit almost two weeks ago. Jasper tilted his head back until the honeyed strands of his blond hair mingled with Alice's close-cropped hair.

"I'm so sorry I didn't see in time to warn you."

"You can't see everything. This wasn't your fault."

"But I hate to see you hurting."

"It's getting better. Easier. Every year I feel a bit stronger."

Alice turned her head and rested her cheek against her mate's back, feeling the softness and the warmth of his flesh, taking simple pleasure in the sound of the air rushing into his lungs as he inhaled again. He brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing each of her finger tips in turn. His kisses slowed and he drew her hand higher, passing his mouth over the fragrant skin of her wrist. He tasted her with his tongue, receiving, magnifying and returning the waves of love and devotion to her. He felt her shiver slightly and gasp, trembling with a sudden need to comfort and cradle him within herself.

Edward sensed the direction of their thoughts and exited the house with barely a whisper of sound, turning his attention to the overcast skies and the acres of forest that surrounded their upstate home. He settled into an easy lope, covering miles of trails in minutes, putting enough distance between himself and the house to muffle and then completely erase the strangled cries of love and impending release that flooded his physical and psychic senses.

Edward lost himself in the feeling of the wind combing through his hair. He loved the rush of wings and the rustle of underbrush as creatures fled from his path, desperate to escape the threat that was already hundreds of yards away before their senses could even respond. The sun was directly overhead, trying but failing to burn through the blanketing layer of clouds. He returned to the house an hour later, his jeans chafed to bare threads and his shoes pulling apart at the seams. Even the highest quality fabrics could not stand up to the rigors of running at such high speeds for any length of time.

Jasper was sitting on the front porch, his feet bare and his hair a tousled mess. His good humor had returned.

"Thirsty?"

"Always."

"I need to hunt. I would welcome your company."

Edward listened to Alice's pointed thoughts and smiled. She was up to her neck in bubbles and hot water. She planned to welcome Jasper home from his hunt with round two. Less impulsive. More sensual.

"I don't really have anything else to do right now. Sure. Why not? I scented a small herd of deer about twenty five miles north. And a wolf, too. Maybe we'll get lucky and find something tastier than venison."

Edward shed his mangled shoes and the two brothers ran northward, splitting off to follow the divergent tracks of their prey.

* * *

><p>Alice sank deeper into the water, feeling the bubbles clinging to and popping against her hair. The frisson of each strand tickled her scalp and she swayed her head from side to side, forcing the tiny explosions to follow a waltzing rhythm. She smiled a little to herself. Jasper was so much happier than he used to be. His confidence was building. He was starting to forgive himself. Not completely - he might never do that - but he was finally giving himself some credit for the countless ways he subjugated his base urges to the call of his conscience.<p>

Alice slid down until she was completely submerged. The plumeria scented bath salts gave the water a faint pink hue and it slipped against her skin in a continuous silken current. Alice followed her own future path from the bathroom to the bedroom where she would slip into a pink silk night gown. Jasper would smell her before he could see her. But he would feel her even before her scent reached him. She would greet him with her desire and anticipation, whet his appetite with the soft humming song of her arousal. She felt a momentary twinge of regret for forcing Edward to endure another session of lovemaking but she saw his acceptance and approval already so she put aside her guilt.

Everything would be perfect. She just needed to climb out of the tub in thirteen minutes and twe-

Her stomach dropped and her head spun as the immediate future disappeared and a new series of images lurched into her mind with a sickening jolt. She clambered out of the tub, choking and sputtering to expel the water that had flooded her throat and lungs.

Jennifer was not heading south. She never reached the interstate. The driver had taken her north toward Canada, up into the Adirondacks. Straight through their hunting range.

The images surged through her head at a blistering pace. She was drying herself, throwing on pants and a shirt and sprinting from the front door, even as the realization hit her. She was too late. This time there would be no close call. This could only end with two shallow graves.

Even knowing she was too late, she could not slow down. She cried out to Edward with her voice and her mind. He was too far. Twenty eight miles away. And Jasper was even further.

Focusing on Edward brought his path directly before her mind's eye. He was stalking a wolf. No. A pair of wolves. She saw him lunge, the snapping jaws, the fangs buried in fur and flesh. She saw his eyes close in satisfaction as the rich liquid coated his tongue and flowed unchecked down his parched throat. She saw his right hand dart out to catch the second wolf mid-leap, holding it snarling and snapping in the air as he drained the first body dry. She saw his eyes glinting like rough cut gems as her brought the second wolf, squirming and biting to his mouth. She continued running as fast as she could, screaming against the leisurely pace with which he enjoyed his second course. She sensed the exact moment that he heard her cries.

Edward dropped the twitching body and spun, his eyes searching for her long before she was visible through the trees. She told him all that she could in a desperate burst. He set off at a full sprint, knowing she could not keep up, knowing, like her, that it was too late, but being compelled to run, to strive, to push, push, push until it really was too, too late.

Edward followed the line of Alice's vision until his own senses latched onto the beacon of Jasper's thoughts. There was no sane pattern to the feelings and images that assaulted his mind. The thirst. The blood. Sweet, sweet, beautiful. Tasting in the air, on his lips, his tongue. Feeling the glow rise from his belly through his viscera. The heat. The strength. The invincible fire.

The girl's mind cried out in terror. Her nightmare had begun soon after the truck driver offered her a ride; a ride with a price, as she found out when they were many miles away from town. Alone and hidden on a deserted dirt road he took her viciously. He whispered his apologies and then took her again slowly and gently as she screamed and choked on saliva and disgust. He tied her to the frame of the truck while he slept. She struggled and cried out for help, her body bruised and broken and tormented. Her soul embittered by self loathing. _Idiot. Fool. Coward. You should have fought harder. You should have brought a weapon. Something. Anything. _Her wrists where chafed red within minutes. She continued to fight even when the leather straps cut her flesh and the blood flowed freely. She cried until her vocal cords seized up, raw and inflamed. She rasped and hissed out pleas for deliverance. She begged for it to end. She couldn't let him take her again.

The struggles of a trapped and bleeding creature often attract a predator. Jennifer's eyes jerked in surprise. He descended in a blur of white and gold, his mind and heart and the shreds of his humanity displaced by an unquenchable, indomitable thirst. Her last thought, her last words, were 'thank you'. Merely a whisper.

Edward skidded onto the gravel road as Jasper collapsed onto the ground, holding the girl's drained and ravaged body in his arms. His eyes rose to meet his brother's, gold changing to crimson, haunted and hurting. Edward heard and felt the stirring of the truck's occupant. His stomach heaved as his mind came into contact with a familiar pool of filth. The barely conscious rapist was reveling in his most recent conquest. Anticipating more. So much more. Looking forward most of all to the final moment when he would assert his absolute power over his victim and take her life as well as her body and spirit.

Rage flooded his heart. Rage and hatred for what the man was. What they all were. Thieves. Murderers. Monsters.

Without another breath, Edward drove his fist through the side of the cab, sensing by pure instinct his exact location. His fingers closed about the rapist's throat and he thrashed wildly on his bunk, his trachea crushed and his vertebrae flattened in a vice. He died within seconds.

Alice came stumbling into the clearing, sobbing and shaking. She had seen it all. Lived it all. And now, with Jasper crumbling before her, the force of his despair and self-hatred inundating them with the force of a tsunami, she clung to the only point of light in the pool of misery and despair.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

* * *

><p>So, That was different. . .<p> 


End file.
